UC-NRLF 


LIBRARY 

OF   THK 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

OIKT  OK 


Received         &  tT        ,  189     . 
Accession  No.   Jj   0   /</  •    Class  No. 


arles  H.  Kerr  &  Co.,  Publishers,  175  Monroe  St.,  Chicago. 


A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 


BY 


NICO  BECH-MEYER 


ILLUSTRATED  WITH  SKETCHES  BY  CAPEL   ROWLEY 


CHICAGO: 

CHARLES  H.  KERR  &  COMPANY 

175  MONROE  STREET 

1894 


Copyright,   1894 
BY  CHARLES  H.   KERR  &  COMPANY 

Library  of  Progress.      No.  t2.       Quarterly,  $2.00  a  year.       September,  1 8 Q4 

Entered  at  the  Postoffice ,  Chicago,  as  second  class  mail  matttr 

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED. 


TO  THE   WAGE-EARNERS  OF  AMERICA. 


"O  Lord  of  life  and  love  in  whom  I  believe — how  long,  how  long?' 
Page  54. 


A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 


It  was  a  quiet  afternoon  in  October,  1893, 
month  of  repose  after  fulfilled  expectations,  that 
month  in  which  nature  prepares  for  a  health-giv 
ing  rest  during  winter,  for  a  calm  concentration  of 
forces,  which  are  to  burst  into  new  life  at  a  coming 
spring.  Surely  October,  1893,  would  also  become 
a  month  of  repose  to  the  nations,  who  had  exerted 
themselves  to  their  utmost  capacity.  They  had 
gathered  together  what  brains  had  thought  and 
hands  achieved,  ever  since  man  first  lifted  a  stone; 
they  had  built  from  it  a  world  of  art  and  beauty, 
of  intellect  and  skill,  till  they  themselves  stood 
dazed  by  its  splendor. 

It  had  been  proved,  how  mankind  had  made  sun 
and  air  and  soil  subject  to  the  power  of  the  mind. 
Now  the  nations  could  go  home  and  rest  as  mas 
ters  of  the  earth. 

And  especially  the  people  of  the  Western  hem 
isphere,  they  who  had  contributed  the  main  share 
to  this  crowning  of  civilization  —  if  they  could  not 

5 


6  A  STORY  FROM  PULLM/1NTOWN 

enjoy  a  well-deserved  rest,  it  would  be  against  the 
laws  of  nature. 

As  the  steeples  from  the  World's  Columbian  Ex 
position  and  the  voices  from  the  Congresses  arose 
toward  heaven,  the  spirits  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers 
congregated  above  to  behold  a  sight:  From  the 
ores  of  mountains  only  known  to  them  through  the 
red  warriors'  tales,  their  children  had  taken  silver 
and  gold  and  glittering  stones;  from  these  and  from 
night-black  coal  they  had  constructed  monuments 
for  their  own  daring  and  skill;  from  endless  prairies 
ruled  by  sun  and  wind,  known  to  them  only  by 
faint  breezes  whispering  eastward,  had  their  chil 
dren  brought  the  heavy  wheat  and  golden  maize 
and  wreathed  it  amid  buffalo  horns  around  ma 
chines  which  had  plowed  and  harvested  those 
prairies. 

They  had  brought  it  by  steam,  and  they  had 
called  for  it  through  thin  wires  of  metal  stretching 
from  one  end  of  the  country  to  the  other. 

And  words  of  fraternity  and  love,  equality  and 
brotherhood  of  man,  rose  from  men  and  women. 
Woman  had  a  temple  all  her  own,  with  marble  and 
paintings  and  flowers  and  silks.  And  from  here, 
too,  an  incessant  stream  of  words  arose. 

Some  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  said;     "It  is  words 


A  PLACE  FOR  WORKING  7 

from  the  right  and  words  from  the  left;  it  seems  to 
be  words,  all  of  it." 

"Don't  you  see,"  others  said,  "that  the  new- 
built  city  is  white?  It  is  the  spirit  of  light  and 
love,  which  makes  it  shine." 

The  Eastern  nations  came  and  uncovered  their 
heads,  giving  thanks  for  the  extended  invitation  to 
witness  the  splendor  of  the  nation,  of  the  future; 
when  they  had  seen  it  and  heard  many  words, they 
went  home. 

After  this  the  heavenly  city  was  to  be  broken 
down,  as  if  it  had  been  put  too  early  into  this 
world. 

But  the  nation  who  had  built  it,  needed    most 

of  all  to  go  home  and  rest  by  quiet  every-day  \\ork, 

in  comfort  and  peace,  gaining  strength  until  great 

national  achievements  might  be  called    for   again. 

*•**'•* 

There  was  a  town  in  this  nation  called  Pullman- 
town.  It  was  known  as  a  place  rilled  with  men 
and  women  who  spent  their  life  working.  It  was 
not  a  place  where  people  came  to  eat  and  drink 
and  lie  around,  watching  other  people  pushing  the 
world  ahead;  nor  was  it  a  place  where  gamblers 
and  loafers  and  speculators  in  other  people's  weak 
ness  or  folly  came  to  harvest  a  crop. 


8  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

In  this  town  lived  a  set  of  men  and  women  who 
during  fourteen  years'  work  had  shown  that  they 
realized  their  place  in  the  construction  of  society, 
their  particular  ability,  their  duties  as  parents  and 
citizens.  They  knew  that  will  to  work  is  the  never- 
ceasing  wheel  which  drives  mankind  toward  its 
aim;  daily  experience  had  taught  them  that  the 
existence  of  all  depended  upon  the  working-power 
of  the  individual.  They  desired  to  work  with  the 
best  of  their  strength,  and  to  rest  only  to  be  better 
fitted  for  new  work.  Therefore  this  town  was 
known  over  the  world.  If  it  had  not  been  so  before, 
it  would  have  become  so  during  the  summer  of 
1893.  People  from  all  parts  of  the  world  were 
taken  to  the  white  city  in  cars  built  by  those  work- 
ingmen,  and  the  travelers  heard  with  surprise 
about  such  a  town  filled  with  thousands  of  honest 
men  and  women,  people  representing  the  energy 
and  nerve  of  mankind,  without  any  drones  in  their 
houses  or  tramps  on  their  streets.  A  great  many 
deplored  that  time  and  opportunity  did  not  allow 
them  to  go  and  see  this  place  so  unique  in  the 
world. 

In  the  evening  calm  of  an  October  day  a  train 
came  running  with  full  speed  toward  this  labor- 
city, 


A  GROUP  OF  FACES  9 

With  his  face  pressed  against  one  of  the  car  win 
dows,  a  little  boy  was  sitting  on  his  knees,  watch 
ing  the  cows  on  the  fields  through  which  the  train 
was  running.  Once  in  a  while  he  lifted  his  face  to 
a  woman  by  his  side,  who  smiled  into  his  eager 
gaze;  a  tall,  commanding  figure,  with  expressive, 
quickly  changing  features.  The  likeness  between 
her  and  the  boy  was  mostly  seen  in  the  dark-blue 
eyes,  which,  especially  in  the  boy,  attained  a  depth 
taking  in  and  possessing  those  looking  into  them. 
His  movements  in  bending  back  and  forth,  were 
quick  and  graceful  as  those  of  a  kitten,  and  his 
skin  so  clear  that  it  impressed  one  with  a  similar 
pureness  of  soul  inside  the  fair  form.  By  his  other 
side  was  sitting  a  man — a  gentleman,  one  would 
say,  without  stopping  to  think.  One  glance  at  the 
well-built,  somewhat  slender  figure,  told  the  or 
igin  of  the  grace  in  the  child.  The  face,  turned 
toward  the  fields,  was  restful  as  were  the  fields 
themselves  in  the  waning  day.  They  all  three 
looked  as  people  who  came  from  sun  and  rest  and 
had  become  filled  with  it. 

At  one  of  the  stopping  places  a  young  girl  got 
on — nay,  not  young;  perhaps  in  age,  but  not  in 
appearance.  She  took  a  seat  opposite  the  little 
boy.  She  was  dressed  in  a  plain  gray  summer 


10  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

suit.  Her  hat  was  gray,  so  were  her  eyes,  and  her 
face  was  colorless.  She  did  not  look  attractive, 
nor  did  she  by  any  means  appear  the  contrary. 
She  did  not  look  worn  out  through  work;  rather, 
as  if  care  had  weighed  heavily  on  her  young  shoul 
ders.  Once  noticed,  people  could  not  help  looking 
at  her  again,  wondering  where  her  place  in  life 
might  be. 

And  surely,  nobody  could  help  paying  attention 
to  what  those  lips  might  have  to  say. 

Hergloveless  hands  were  folded  in  her  lap;  slim 
and  nervous  did  they  look;  they  were  not  used  to 
house-work. 

The  little  boy  shouted  with  delight  as  the  train 
passed  a  cow  so  closely,  that  it  would  have  taken 
more  than  the  drowsiness  of  a  cow  to  appear  un 
concerned  had  it  been  a  few  inches  closer. 

She  looked  at  him  and  smiled,  a  sweet  and  sym 
pathetic  smile,  which  went  to  his  mother's  heart  as 
she  caught  it. 

The  boy  ran  to  tne  window  at  the  opposite  side, 
in  hope  of  seeing  new  sights.  The  stranger  stroked 
his  yellow  curls  as  he  sat  down  by  her,  while  he 
in  turn  grasped  for  the  locket  on  her  chain,  asking 
where  she  got  it. 

His  mother  interfered- 


MAKING  NEW  FRIENDS  11 

"Please,  let  him  talk,"  the  stranger  said,  in  the 
low,  melodious  voice  indicating  culture  of  heart; 
"I  love  to  talk  with  children,  and  he  is  such  a  sweet 
boy." 

The  sweet  boy  did  not  need  to  hear  any  repeti 
tion;  he  crawled  noiselessly  as  a  squirrel  on  her  lap 
and  commenced  examining  her  locket,  chain, 
breastpin,  buttons  and  everything  in  sight. 

His  mother  again  remonstrated. 

"Let  him  amuse  himself;  he  is  tired  from  travel 
ing;  has  he  traveled  far?" 

"Not  very  far.  But  we  paid  our  last  visit  to 
the  World's  Fair  this  morning,  and  he  may  have 
reason  for  being  tired." 

At  this  moment  a  newspaper  went  down,  which 
for  a  while  had  covered  the  face  of  a  man  by  the 
door  of  the  car.  He  looked  in  the  direction  of 
the  two  who  were  talking. 

As  if  drawn  by  his  look,  the  young  girl  turned 
her  headland  met  his  gaze. 

A  faint  color  crept  under  her  skin,  as  if  a  stream 
of  life  struggled  to  rise  to  the  surface. 

He  showed  a  row  of  superb  teeth. 

"I  thought  I  knew  that  voice;  if  I  had  known 
that,  Miss  Kean,  I  should  certainly  have  offered 
my  company  this  morning." 


12  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

"Thank  you;  you  know  I  get  along  very  well 
alone." 

She  turned  to  the  boy's  mother  again.  "So  you 
have  visited  the  Fair.  Did  it  meet  your  expecta 
tions?" 

"More  than  that,"  was  the  enthusiastic  answer. 
"It  was  a  day-dream  of  beauty.  I  shall  feel  thank 
ful  all  my  life,  that  I  was  allowed  to  live  at  this 
time;  it  seems  as  if  my  remaining  years  all  must 
be  hallowed  by  what  this  summer  has  brought  to 
me." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so.  It  is  a  blessing 
for  every  one  who  has  had  so  much  benefit  from 
it." 

"Did  it  not  make  the  same  impression  upon 
you?" 

"In  some  way.  Only — I  did  not  look  at  it  as 
work  accomplished;  to  me  it  was  a  prophecy  of  a 
better  future,  when  a  White  City'  on  the  earth 
no  more  should  stand  as  a  crying  contrast  to  the 
rest  of  the  world.  I  have  only  been  able  to  go 
there  three  times" — her  listener  started  up  in  her 
seat  with  surprise — "the  last  time  I  was  there, 
unshed  tears  seemed  to  choke  me,  as  I  bid  good 
bye;  thankfulness,  bitterness,  hope  and  despair 
mingled  together,  but  the  lasting  impression  was; 


A  TERRIBLE  CONTRADICTION  13 

We  have  created  this,  we  must  reach  to   a    time 
when  it  no  more  shall  be  a  terrible  contradiction." 

The  little  boy's  mother  again  looked  surprised 
and  puzzled.  Her  husband  had  turned  his  face 
away  from  the  shining  fields  and  looked  with  in 
terest  at  the  speaker. 

Suddenly  the  paper  from  the  corner  seat  went 
down  again,  and  two  eyes  filled  with  the  force  of 
a  determined  will  were  turned  to  the  young  lady. 

"I  agree  with  you,  Miss  Kean;  it  was  grand  to 
sublimeness  from  our  part,  and  it  was  from  their 
part  an  exposure  of  rottenness,  unprecedented  in 
the  history  of  nations." 

An  earnest  nod  was  the  answer. 

The  older  lady  took  her  little  boy  on  her  lap, 
utterly  unable  to  comprehend  the  meaning  of  this. 
She  would  have  expressed  herself,  but  the  noise 
from  a  passing  train  checked  her.  She  contented 
herself  with  looking  at  him.  The  words  from 
Longfellow's  poem  were  recalled  to  her  memory: 

"The  star  of  the  unconquered  will,  , 
He  rises  in  my  breast, 
Serene  and  resolute  and  still, 
And  calm  and  self-possessed." 

Slowly  each  word  arose  before  her,  as  she  watched 
this  stranger.  He  was  of  her  husband's  build,  but 
of  the  dark  type,  a  face  full  of  nerve.  She  noticed 


14  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

with  a  certain  satisfaction,  that  th&ugh  his  hair  and 
complexion  were  fully  Southern,  his  eyes  were  of 
a  deep  blue.  There  was  the  touch  of  an  artist 
over  his  person  and  attire,  devoid  of  jewelry  and 
display  as  it  was.  It  struck  her,  what  perfect  re 
pose  there  was  in  his  way  of  carrying  his  head! 
His  words  appeared  to  her  as  contradictory  to  his 
personal  appearance. 

She  turned  toward  her  husband  and  saw  him 
with  a  look  of  intense  interest  watch  the  stranger, 
who  now  buried  himself  behind  his  paper  again. 

On  and  on  the  train  went,  past  fields  of  milk 
weed  and  blue-grass,  lying  as  though  they  were 
untouched  from  eternity;  it  seemed  to  widen  one's 
soul  to  look  at  them. 

Tall  chimneys  and  red  buildings  had  been  in 
view  for  a  while;  at  last  the  train  slackened  its 
speed.  Before  them  was  a  city  of  chimneys,  fac 
tories  and  houses. 

How  beautiful!     How  peaceful! 

Green  lawns,  hanging  willows,  birches— oh,  the 
birches  from  Dakota! 

She  leaned  eagerly  out  of  the  window,  taking  in 
the  sight,  looking  at  her  little  boy  and  her  hus 
band  to  see  a  corresponding  joy  in  their  faces. 

"Look,  what  is  this,  there  on  the  grass?"  the 
boy  cried. 


I 

DF  THB 

UNIVERSITY   , 


A  TRULY  BEAUTIFUL  PLACE  15 

"Yes,  what  is  it  that  is  standing  there  in  flowers 
—there?" 

Her  husband  followed,  where  she  pointed. 

On  the  slope  was  standing  in  pale  flowers: 

"HOARD." 

"That  is  the  name  of  the  owner  of  this  place, 
Mr.  HOARD." 

Flowers,  red,  yellow  and  blue,  forming  beds  of 
various  shapes;  hotels  and  finely  constructed 
buildings  surrounding  them. 

"What  a  truly  beautiful  place!"  she  exclaimed, 
grasping  her  husband's  arm. 

"That  is  what  I  told  you,"  he  answered,  with 
satisfaction. 

At  the  same  moment,  she  saw  the  paper  in  the 
corner  sink  again;  a  smile,  half  amused,  half  pity 
ing,  flitted  across  the  face  of  its  reader,  while  he 
looked  toward  the  girl  in  gray;  just  the  same  ex 
pression  was  on  her  face,  and  then  both  involun 
tarily  turned  their  eyes  for  a  second  to  the  party 
by  the  window. 

The  train  stopped  and  everybody  started  to 
leave. 

"Let  me  help  Earl, and  you  look  after  the  trunks," 
the  mother  said. 

She  was  going  to  step  down,  but  a  strange  feel- 


16  A  STORY  FROM  PULLM4NTOWN 

ing  of  uneasiness  had  possessed  her;  she  hardly 
knew  what  she  was  about;  a  black  lace  shawl  that 
she  had  thrown  over  her  arm  was  hanging  down  to 
the  floor,  and  as  she  was  on  the  step,  her  little  boy 
was  standing  in  the  car  on  the  shawl.  He  stag 
gered  by  her  pulling  it,  and  the  lady  in  gray  grasped 
him,  just  as  he  was  going  to  fall,  and  lifted  him 
down  to  his  mother.  She  was  profuse  in  her 
thanks,  as  she  put  on  the  little  fellow's  hat  and 
re-arranged  his  clothes. 

"I  heard  your  name  was  Miss  Kean;  my  name  is 
Mrs.  Wright.  I  hope  we  will  become  better  ac 
quainted,  if  you  live  here.  We  intend  to  go  into 
the  grocery-business  here." 

At  this  moment  her  husband  came  with  two 
valises,  and  took  her  and  their  boy  along  to  a  hotel. 
She  did  not  know  but  she  might  be  mistaken,  yet 
it  seemed  to  her  that  a  meaning  glance,  pitying, 
sympathizing,  was  passed  between  the  two  young 
strangers,  who  stood  side  by  side,  looking  at  them. 
*  *  *  * 

Supper-time  was  past,  and  the  little  boy  was 
put  to  bed,  tired  after  the  exertions  of  the  day. 
Husband  and  wife  were  sitting  on  a  bench  outside 
the  hotel,  enjoying  the  quietness  around  them. 
This  did  not  look  much  like  the  working-place  it 


A  SPLENDID  PLACE  FOR  BUSINESS  17 

was,  at  the  present  hour,  where  the  machinery 
rested  together  with  the  hands  that  run  it.  And 
then,  the  factories  and  the  houses  occupied  by  the 
working-people  were  behind  the  fashionable  part 
of  the  place,  Mr.  Wright  said. 

The  feeling  of  uneasiness  with  which  Mrs. 
Wright  had  been  impressed  in  the  car,  was  wear 
ing  off,  and  what  little  might  be  left,  she  tried  to 
talk  away. 

"It  cannot  be  any  other  way,  Henry,"  she  said 
to  her  husband;  "this  must  be  a  splendid  place  for 
a  man  in  your  line  of  business.  A  workingman 
who  has  work  is  a  good  customer;  here  are  no 
idlers  and  loafers;  they  would  not  be  tolerated,  as 
the  rent  must  be  paid." 

"No,  that  is  true.  If  only  the  winter  will  not 
be  dull." 

"There  is  no  fear  of  that.  People  here  know  that 
their  only  chance  of  getting  work  is  with  these 
factories  and  shops;  if  they  could  not  get  it  there, 
they  would  leave  for  some  other  place,  and  only 
those  at  work  would  remain.  How  we  shall  enjoy 
getting  a  home  of  our  own  again  and  to  commence 
doing  something!  I  should  not  like  to  travel  all 
my  life." 

And  husband  and  wife  began  talking  about  their 


18  A  STORY  FROM  PULLM^NTOWN 

future  prospects,  while  their  thoughts  all  the  time 
turned   back    to    their   sleeping   child,  what    they 
wanted  to  do  for  him  in  time  to  come. 
*  *  *  * 

Mr.  Wright  and  his  wife  had  for  years  lived  in 
a  small  city  in  South  Dakota.  She  had  been  a 
teacher  for  many  years  previous  to  her  marriage, 
and  during  the  first  two  years  of  her  marriage,  too; 
but  when  their  child  came  she  gave  it  up  in  order 
to  devote  herself  entirely  to  him. 

Mr.  Wright  had  been  a  teacher,  too,  but  a  deli 
cate  nerve-system  made  him  less  fit  for  this  occu 
pation,  and  he  became  a  merchant  like  his  father. 
At  the  beginning  of  the  World's  Fair  and  the  Con 
gresses  they  rented  out  their  store  and  came  to 
Chicago  to  spend  the  summer  there.  Here  they 
met  an  old  friend  of  Mr.  Wright's,  who  for  some 
years  had  owned  a  store  in  a  city  of  working-peo 
ple  called  Pullmantown.  Mr.  Wright  had  been 
aware  of  the  existence  of  such  a  place,  and  that  was 
about  all.  Their  friend's  description  of  this  unique 
place  interested  them.  They  had  experienced  sev 
eral  losses  in  their  business  last  winter,  by  having 
had  to  trust  old  neighbors  and  friends,  especially 
farmers  who  had  suffered  through  droughts;  they 
were  by  no  means  disinclined  to  change  their  place 


RENTS  THAT  SEEMED  EXORBITANT  19 

of  business.  This  certainly  seemed  encouraging. 
Days  of  hard  work  in  those  iron  and  melting  shops 
would  ask  for  good  strengthening  food.  Steady 
work  strengthens  the  character  of  men  and  makes 
it  safe  to  do  business  among  them.  Their  friend 
could  not  stand  the  winters  of  Illinois,  he  ex 
plained;  he  desired  to  go  south. 

Mr.  Wright  went  out  to  look  at  the  place.  His 
friend  stuck  to  his  side  all  the  .  time,  treated  him 
to  a  fine  dinner  in  the  hotel,  took  a  walk  with  him 
in  the  park,  showed  him  the  large  tenement  blocks 
and  then  they  took  an  inventory  of  the  store. 

Mr.  Wright  went  back  and  talked  the  matter 
over  with  his  wife  and  it  was  settled.  They  sold 
their  place  in  Dakota  in  order  to  go  to  Pullman- 
town. 

Mr.  Wright  had  only  one  objection  to  what  he 
observed;  the  rent  of  the  store  and  of  a  house  such 
as  he  considered  fit  for  his  family  to  live  in,  was 
exorbitant.  He  had  to  pay  $50.00  for  a  store  which 
in  Chicago  could  be  had  at  the  rate  of  $15.00,  and 
$27.00  for  a  flat  which  in  Chicago  before  the  Fair 
would  rent  at  $18.00.  But  his  friend  pacified  him: 
if  business  was  that  much  better,  what  figure  would 
the  rent  cut? 

One  thing  displeased  him  even   more   than   the 


20  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMAUTOWti 

amount  of  the  rent:  no  store  could  be  leased  here 
on  other  conditions  than  at  ten  days'  notice  of  va 
cating.  He  looked  in  amazement,  nay,  with  the 
keenest  displeasure,  at  the  face  of  the  renting  agent, 
Mr.  Horn,  as  this  gentleman  assured  him  of  the 
impossibility  of  changing  this  elause.  Mr.  Wright 
was  at  a  loss  to  understand  the  cause  for  such  dis 
obliging  and  tyrannical  treatment  of  renters;  but  a 
look  at  the  shrewd,  cold  face  of  the  business  man 
disgusted  him  so  much  that  he  gave  up  all  attempts 
of  arguing  the  matter. 

He  left  with  only  one  unpleasant  impression  of 
his  new  place  of  living — the  fact  that  such  a  large 
business  center  should  have  their  renting  attended 
to  in  such  a  way,  and  through  a  person  who  looked 
more  like  a  piece  of  machinery  than  like  a  human 

being. 

*  #  *  * 

On  the  morning  after  their  arrival  at  Pullman- 
town  Mrs.  Wright  went  out  for  a  walk  with  her  lit 
tle  boy;  her  husband  being  busy  in  the  store  and 
at  the  depot,  arranging  things. 

It  was  such  a  morning  in  fall  as  gives  back  to 
one  all  that  might  be  lost  in  strength  during  the 
summer  heat.  She  had  intended  to  get  up  early 
enough  to  see  people  go  to  work,  but  she  slept  too 


O*'    '[a. a. 

UNIVERSITY 


She  left  behind  her  the  better  built  houses  and  came  to  streets  and 
alleys,  where  fences  were  rotting  and  weeds  standing  high. — Page  21. 


A  MORNING  WALK  21 

long;  the  factories  had  been  running  for  over  half 
an  hour.  She  passed  under  the  birches  out  on 
the  white  street — to  one  side  the  wide-stretching 
fields — wonder  who  owns  all  those  fields! — to  the 
other  side  the  city,  hammering,  snorting,  puffing 
out  volumes  of  smoke,  in  its  effort  to  achieve  some 
thing  on  this  new  day. 

"My  country,  'tis  of  thee — land  of  the  noble, 
free" — it  sounded  in  her  thoughts;  she  did  not  know 
that  she  was  humming  it,  until  she  heard  her  child 
keep  pace  to  it. 

She  left  the  small  park  to  take  a  walk  along  the 
common  streets  of  the  city.  She  left  behind  her 
the  better  built  houses  and  came  to  streets  and 
alleys,  where  fences  were  rotting  and  weeds  stand 
ing  high;  at  many  places  window-lights  were 
broken.  This  made  an  unpleasant  impression 
upon  her.  In  the  small  city  where  she  used  to 
live,  most  of  the  workingmen  owned  their  own 
homes,  the  houses  were  kept  nice  and  the  surround 
ings  made  attractive. 

She  could  not  help  wondering  how  those  places 
looked  inside.  She  walked  and  walked,  until  both 
she  and  the  child  became  so  tired  that  she  had  to 
sit  down  on  a  high  sidewalk. 

Why  in  the  world  was  this  place  laid  out  that 


22  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOIVN 

way?  Had  men  no  sense  and  no  thoughts  for  wom 
en  and  children?  Not  as  far  as  eye  could  reach 
had  there  been  a  place  with  trees  and  grass,  where 
the  mothers,  packed  together  in  those  prison-like 
houses,  could  go  out  with  their  little  ones;  and  yet, 
there  was  plenty  of  ground  all  around  the  city. 
Women  were  sweeping  their  porches  and  shaking 
their  rugs  in  the  neighboring  houses;  they  stood 
still  and  looked  down  at  the  strangers.  Now  men 
were  walking  to  and  fro  in  the  houses,  or  rather 
to  and  fro  in  the  different  parts  of  the  houses,  as 
here  were  whole  blocks  built  in  one  house,  with 
families  packed  together  as  herrings  in  barrels. 
She  thought  with  a  sigh  of  the  cozy  cottages  in  her 
old  home. 

Strange,  it  seemed  as  if  many  men  must  be  out 
of  work,  or  what  were  they  doing  at  home  at  this 
time  of  the  day?  Two  men  came  from  an  alley 
and  sat  down  on  the  corner  of  the  sidewalk.  She 
liked  their  appearance,  and  went  to  them. 

"Will  you  please  tell  me,  gentlemen,  is  there 
nothing  in  the  way  of  trees  or  grass  or  flowers  in 
your  city,  except  the  small  place  by  the  depot?" 

"There  is  a  park  in  the  outskirts,  where  the 
train  is  running.  If  you  wish  to  see  it,  we  will 
show  you  the  way." 


/ 

Hi: 


SWAMP-LAUD  AND  PARKS  23 

They  all  went  along.  They  passed  a  piece  of 
swamp-land  lying  between  two  of  the  large  facto 
ries.  The  electric  car  was  running  between  it  and 
the  street. 

"Why  don't  they  set  this  out  with  flowers  and 
trees?  As  it  is,  it  is  unfit  for  children  to  play  on." 

The  two  men  smiled,  and  looked  at  each  other. 

"You  seem  to  be  without  work,"  she  said,  as 
they  went  on. 

"We  have  been  without  work  for  ten  weeks,  "the 
tallest  of  them  answered. 

Mrs.  Wright  started  back.  "What  is  your  occu 
pation?"  she  asked. 

"We  are  carpenters,"  the  other  one  said.  He 
was  shorter  of  stature,  very  dark,  with  an  expres 
sion  of  mirth  in  his  eyes,  as  he  watched  the  boy 
bouncing  before  them.  She  liked  his  face,  but  it 
seemed  as  if  none  of  them  were  much  inclined  to 
talk. 

At  last  they  stood  in  view  of  a  park  with  shrub 
bery  and  fine  trees,  and  with  bridges  across  an  ar 
tificial  lake. 

"How  beautiful!"  Mrs.  Wright  exclaimed. 

"Yes.  And  we  have  paid  for  it,"  the  tall  man 
said  emphatically.  His  friend  threw  a  quick  glance 
at  him — warning,  it  seemed  to  Mrs.  Wright. 


24  A  STORY  FROM  PULLM4NTOWN 

"But  it  is  too  far  off,"  she  continued.  "I  can 
not  stand  it  to  go  there  now.  Why  was  it  placed 
there  instead  of  in  your  midst?  You  have  not  in 
your  city  a  place  where  your  wives  or  children  can 
sit  and  rest !" 

"I  suppose  they  knew  why  they  placed  it  there," 
the  tall  man  answered  with  a  short  laugh,  and 
both  men  again  looked  meaningly  at  each  other. 

At  the  same  moment  a  train  came  rushing  by; 
heads  were  seen  through  the  open  windows  in  the 
cars,  taking  in  the  sight  of  the  park. 

As  lightning  the  truth  struck  Mrs.  Wright. 

"Oh,  I  see  why!" 

"Of  course,"  the  two  men  said  and  nodded.  It 
seemed  as  if  they  were  inclined  to  say  more  but 
deemed  it  better  not  to. 

As  they  turned  to  walk  back  again,  Mrs.  Wright 
asked:  "Are  you  Americans?" 

She  looked  at  the  dark  face  closest  to  her,  and 
the  answer  came  with  a  melodious  voice,  and  a 
twinkle  in  the  eye,  as  if  he  was  not  sure  what  effect 
his  answer  would  have: 

"No,  Ma'am;  I  am  an  Irishman  and  he  is  an 
American." 

Mrs.  Wright  turned  her  glance  to  the  man  tower 
ing  away  over  her,  and  a  pair  of  honest  blue  eyes 


A  SINISTER  FIGURE  25 

met  hers;  he  was  so  light-complexioned  that  she 
would  have  taken  him  for  a  Scandinavian,  had  not 
his  accent  been  so  pure. 

"Are  you  a  Yankee,  Sir?" 

"If  I  said  so,  where  I  came  from,  they  would 
shoot  me,"  he  laughed.  "I  was  born  in  Kentucky." 

"Well,  we  may  become  better  acquainted.  My 
husband  has  bought  Mr.  Dean's  grocery-store,  so 
we  have  come  to  stay." 

The  men  looked  interested  and  were  about  to 
reply,  when  Mrs.  Wright  said: 

"It  looks  to  me,  as  if  a  great  many  men  all 
around  are  without  work." 

At  that  moment  steps  which  had  been  sounding 
behind  them  at  some  distance,  came  nearer. 

"We  will  let  that  man  pass,"  the  Irishman  said 
to  his  friend,  and  the  two  men  made  a  halt  and 
went  each  to  his  side  on  the  sidewalk,  leaving  a 
wide  space  between  them;  there  they  stood  silently 
waiting,  until  a  man  dressed  in  a  gray  suit,  like  a 
workingman's  Sunday  suit,  had  passed  between 
and  walked  on. 

Mrs.  Wright  stood  a  few  feet  in  front  of  them; 
the  man  in  gray  passed  close  by  her,  quickening 
his  speed.  His  head  was  bent,  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  ground;  a  queer,  heavy-set,  round-shouldered 


26  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

figure  it  was,  like  some  animal  seeking  the  dust. 
Mrs.  Wright  turned  around,  seeing  the  two  men 
each  on  his  side  of  the  walk,  looking  after  the  dis 
appearing  man  with  a  sneer  on  their  faces.  As 
answer  to  the  bewildered  astonishment  speaking 
from  Mrs.  Wright's  face,  the  Irishman  said: 
"There  are  some  people  whom  you  like  better  to 
have  in  front  of  you  than  behind  you,"  after  which 
they  resumed  their  walk. 

The  expression  in  their  faces  was  so  full  of  dis 
dain,  the  whole  performance  so  queer,  that  it 
dumfounded  Mrs.  Wright. 

"Good  morning,  Ma'am,"  the  Irishman  said, 
touching  his  hat,  as  they  came  near  the  street 
where  she  had  met  her  escorts. 

She  walked  with  her  little  boy  by  the  hand  along 
the  dusty  streets,  along  those  immense  prison-like 
structures  closing  over  thousands  of  human  lives, 
and  it  suddenly  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  was  in  a 
city  of  prisons.  Not  a  yard  with  flower-beds,  not 
a  bit  of  bright  color,  not  a  bay  window  with  a  lace 
curtain,  not  a  balcony  nor  a  cornice,  nothing  to 
break  the  dead  lines  of  those  brick  walls,  which  only 
seemed  to  lack  the  iron  bars  behind  the  windows. 
Yet  the  houses  around  the  depot  appeared  to  be 
nice  enough! 


UNIVERSITY 

CALIFOK 


MISERY  IN  THE  PARADISE  27 

Before  she  came  home,  she  knew  that  the  ex 
terior  of  this  city  was  constructed  on  a  fraud;  now 
it  was  left  to  find  out  about  the  interior. 


It  did  not  take  long  for  Mr.  Wright  to  discover 
that  the  "friend"  who  had  sold  out  to  them  had  not 
been  much  of  a  friend,  as  the  conditions  of  this 
place  had  been  grossly  misrepresented. 

But  now  they  were  in  it,  and  they  tried  to  do 
their  best.  It  hurt  them  most  to  realize  that  they 
were  obliged  to  sell  at  much  higher  prices  than 
those  prevailing  in  the  neighboring  districts,  or  they 
could  not  make  the  difference  in  the  rent. 

It  did  not  take  Mr.  Wright  long  to  find  out  the 
real  truth:  that  here  in  this  workingman's  para 
dise  a  great  many  families  were  at  the  border  of 
need. 

A  grocery-merchant  knows  without  inquiring,  in 
what  circumstances  his  customers  are.  One  pound 
of  sugar  and  a  quarter  pound  of  coffee  is  enough  to 
mark  that  family  down  as  being  at  least  very  much 
straitened  at  the  present.  Each  coming  day  was 
a  source  of  new  surprise  to  him;  not  only  that  this 
community  was  not  well  off  after  having  for  four 
teen  years  been  the  home  of  some  of  the  greatest 
factories  in  the  world,  and  while  streams  of  gold 


28  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

had  flowed  in  this  direction  from  all  parts   of   the 
United  States,  but  it  was  as  a  whole  on  the  border 

of  need. 

*  *  *  * 

One  bright  and  cold  November  afternoon  the 
Wright  family  was  out  for  a  walk.  In  front  of 
them  a  party  of  three  was  walking.  Mrs.  Wright 
knew  at  the  first  glance  the  young  man,  who  sup 
ported  a  heavy  old  lady;  it  was  the  man  from  be 
hind  the  newspaper  on  the  train,  and  the  young 
lady  was  Miss  Kean. 

Earl  bounced  toward  her,  as  soon  as  he  knew 
her,  and  a  common  introduction  took  place.  They 
were  then  informed  that  the  young  man's  name 
was  Mr.  Wallace,  that  he  was  a  decorative  painter 
and  boarded  with  Mrs.  Kean. 

They  all  walked  together  for  a  while,  and  Mrs. 
Wright  immediately  fell  in  love  with  the  old  lady, 
whose  dignified  manners  betrayed  a  cultured  mind, 
and  whose  white  curls  spoke  about  years  of  experi 
ence. 

Mrs.  Wright  insisted  on  their  spending  the  rest 
of  the  evening  together,  and  the  evening  dusk  found 
them  all  seated  in  Mr.  Wright's  parlor. 

After  supper,  as  Mrs.  Wright  came  into  the  par 
lor,  she  found  Mr.  Wallace  looking  at  some  illustra- 


AH  EXPOSURE  OF  ROTTENNESS  29 

tions  of  landscapes  from  all  over  the  world.     He 
showed  her  a  picture  from  Loch  Ness. 

"This  is  from  my  fatherland." 

"Oh,  you  area  Scotchman!  I  thought  there 
was  something  strange  in  your  accent.  For  how 
long  a  time  have  you  lived  in  this  country?" 

"Eight  years.  Five  of  them  I  have  spent  in 
Pullmantown.  I  worked  for  five  years  as  decora 
tive  painter  in  Edinburgh  and  for  two  years  in 
Paris." 

She  seated  herself  by  his  side  and  said:     "I  have 
never  forgotten  you,  since  I  that  day  on  the  train 
heard  you  say  about  the  exposition  that  it  was  an 
exposure  of  rottenness,  unprecedented  in  the   his 
tory  of  nations.     What  did  you  mean  by  that?" 

"It  was  the  skill  and  brain,  the  very  life-blood 
of  the  workingman  exhibited  through  the  agency 
of  those  who  trample  him  under  foot.  It  was  a 
wholesale  robbery,  which  could  not  be  punished, 
because  the  thieves  were  too  big.  They  set  up  an 
incessant  cry  about  all  those  wondrous  chances 
for  labor  to  see  and  profit  by  seeing,  while  it  was 
a  fact  that  the  laborer  sat  in  his  home,  bitter,  de 
spairing,  without  a  cent  for  car-fare  or  for  admit 
tance  fee." 

"I     thought     the     laborer     made     so      much 


30  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOIVN 

more  money  in  the  times  previous  to  the  Fair 
that " 

"Mrs.  Wright,  I  know  of  thousands  of  honest  men 
and  women  in  Chicago,  who  never  were  inside  the 
gates.  And  here  in  Pullmantown, those  who  did  have 
plenty  of  work  during  the  first  summer  months, 
had  been  without  it  for  so  long  a  time  before,  that 
they  were  behind  everywhere.  When  the  rush  of 
work  ceased,  they  were  either  cut  down  a  dollar  a 
day  or  they  were  laid  off.  You  might  perhaps 
say:  Chicago  was  so  overfilled  by  people  from 
the  whole  world,  that  there  exceptional  conditions 
were  reigning.  Perhaps,  but  that  was  only  one 
reason  more  to  have  the  gates  thrown  open  to  the 
laborers,  as  all  of  them  ought  to  see  the  sights,  no 
matter  from  where  they  came.  Now,  for  instance, 
from  your  city  how  many  came  to  the  World's 
Fair?  Twenty?" 

"No.  I  don't  think  twenty  came.  I  should  say 
ten  or  fifteen." 

"And  how  many  inhabitants?" 

"Between  2,000  and  3,000." 

"There,  you  see!  Why  did  not  this  great  nation 
declare  to  itself:  the  means  of  transportation  shall 
be  free  to  every  man  and  woman  whose  income 
does  not  exceed  so  and  so  much;  and  so  shall  the 
gates  of  the  Fair?  Why  did  not  the  nation  itself 


HOW  THE  FAIR  WAS  RUN  31 

build  hotels,  the  most  convenient  and  cheap,  to 
accept  all  those  who  could  riot  afford  to  be  sub 
jected  to  the  greed  of  private  enterprise?" 

"That  may  have  been  wrong;  I  have  heard  sev 
eral  say  so.  I  suppose  they  did  not  understand 
how  to  arrange  it." 

"I  suppose  not.  But  if  they  were  not  able  to 
undertake  this  task,  why  was  it  left  to  them  ?  Why 
did  we  not  see  laborers  as  well  as  capitalists  on 
that  committee  for  the  exposition?  If  laborers  had 
been  there,  they  would  have  looked  out  for  the 
interest  of  the  laborers;  the  money  of  the  cap 
italist  could  look  out  for  them.  The  exhibition 
was  ours;  why  were  we  left  out  from  taking  charge 

of  it? Just  the  same  in  the  Woman's  Building. 

I  will  tell  you  what  right  labor  had  there. 
A  woman  with  a  good  name,  but  struggling 
under  a  condition  of  combined  circumstances,  which 
could  not  have  been  helped,  and  which  was  near 
killing  her  and  her  family,  came  to  the  Woman's 
Building,  asking  those  women,  who  had  received 
the  hundreds  of  thousands  wherewith  to  run  the 
women's  part  of  the  Fair,  for  something  to  do  on 
their  premises.  She  spoke  seven  languages,  she 
had  been  a  public  teacher,  she  was  a  practical  wom 
an,  skilled  in  housework  and  handiwork — they, 


32  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

after  many  fruitless  implorings,  offered  her  a  sit 
uation  in  the  French  department;  five  hours' 
work,  dusting  show-cases,  etc.  Ten  dollars  a 
month  as  pay." 

Mrs.  Wright  dropped  the  album  and  almost  cried : 
"You  must  be  mistaken!" 

"I  am  not  mistaken.  I  know  her  personally.  I 
was  in  her  home  in  Chicago,  when  she  came  home 
heartbroken  and  sat  down  by  three  little  ones  and 
a  husband  weak  from  sickness  and  unemployed." 

"I  wonder  that  the  very  walls  of  the  Woman's 
Building  did  not  tumble  down  while  witnessing 
such  outrages!" 

"I  guess  they  have  witnessed  more  than  that," 
he  calmly  answered. 

Mr.  Wright,  who  had  been  quietly  listening  from 
his  rocking-chair,  came  and  took  a  seat  by  the 
two  who  were  talking. 

"I  will  tell  you,  what  I  cannot  understand,  Mr. 
Wallace.  I,  as  a  store-keeper,  cannot  help  know 
ing  the  circumstances  of  this  place.  Here  are 
people  who  have  worked  in  these  factories  for  ten, 
thirteen  years;  to-day  they  are  without  money. 
Where  has  it  gone  to?  What  is  the  cause  of  all 
this?" 

"When  you  have  lived  here  one  year  longer,  you 


NO  CHANCE  TO  BUY  A  HOME  33 

will  be  able  to  answer  all  such  questions  yourself. 
But  it  takes  time  to  see  into  this  entangled  web. 
At  all  other  places  in  the  world,  people  are  allowed 
to  buy  their  home  and  save  the  rent.  You  could 
not  buy  a  lot  in  Pullmantown,  if  you  would  cover 
it  with  gold.  For  fourteen  years  the  workingman 
has  been  obliged  to  throw  exorbitant  amounts  of 
rent  out  of  the  window  and  still  have  no  home; 
while  he  under  just  circumstances  with  his  steady 
work  would  have  paid  for  his  home  three  times 
during  those  years." 

Here  Miss  Kean  lifted  her  head  from  the  photo 
graphs  of  the  Fair,  at  which  she  and  her  mother 
were  looking: 

"Let  me  give  you  an  example,  Mrs.  Wright.  I 
have  lived  in  one  house  for  eleven  years,  and  have 
paid  $17.81  a  month;  that  makes  $213  72  a  year. 
This  house  did  not  cost  over  $600.00  to  build;  thus 
I  have  paid  for  it  almost  four  times." 

"This  is  outrageous.  Does  then  MR.  HOARD 
own  every  foot  of  ground  here?" 

"Every  foot;  the  streets  and  alleys  are  his;  he 
can  order  us  out  of  them,  if  he  pleases.  The  whole 
business  is  constructed  on  the  basis  of  letting  his 
workingmen  pay  a  hundredfold  the  value  of  the 
swamp-land  he  bought.  And  it  is  not  only  the 


34  A  STORY  FROM  P11LLMANTQWH 

money  question;  but  by  being  sovereign  master  of 
every  foot  of  ground,  he  can  control  all  classes  of  in 
habitants,  he  can  hinder  anybody's  coming  here, 
who  might  be  opposed  to  the  spirit  in  which  his 
business  is  conducted.  Instead  of  giving  a  place  to  a 
school,  or  two  places,  as  needed,  he  builds  a  school 
and  lets  the  city  rent  it.  His  word  will  have  weight 
in  the  choice  of  principal  and  teachers — if  not  his, 
then  that  of  his  hired  outfit  or  of  his  friends." 

Mr.  Wright  was  silent.  He  thought  of  his  lease, 
subject  to  ten  days'  notice. 

"Almost  eighteen  dollars,"  Mrs.  Wright  said, 
turning  to  Miss  Kean  again;  "that  is  a  high  rent 
for  you  and  your  mother." 

"We  never  were  used  to  a  less  convenient  house; 
there  is  not  even  a  bathroom." 

"No  bathroom!"  Mrs.  Wright  exclaimed,  with 
uplifted  hands. 

"The  place  is  built  upon  the  principle  that  the 
workingman  from  the  molding  and  melting  shops, 
from  the  brickyards  and  repair  shops,  from  the  dirt 
and  dust  and  perspiration,  is  not  the  one  who  needs 
a  bath  on  coming  home.  Such  a  luxury  is  for  the 
agents  and  bosses  and  managers  of  the  company, 
and  for  those  of  the  merchants,  teachers  and  doc 
tors  who  can  pay  for  it,"  Miss  Kean  said  bitterly. 


WHY  NOT  MOYE  AWAY?  85 

"Does  MR.  HOARD  furnish  medical  aid  to  his 
employees?" 

"Yes;   Dr.  Hunt  is  employed  by  him." 

"That  is  at  least  one  good  thing." 

"Hm — it  is  very  convenient  for  such  a  man  to 
have  a  doctor  paid  by  himself.  There  might  be 
cases  where  an  outside  physician's  assistance  might 
come  rather  unhandy,"  Mr.  Wallace  answered,  as 
Miss  Kean  kept  silent. 

It  seemed  to  Mrs.  Wright  as  if  Miss  Kean,  who 
until  now  had  been  flushed  from  excitement,  turned 
very  pale,  while  her  mother  suddenly  drew  her  at 
tention  to  one  of  the  plants  in  the  window. 

"But  tell  me,"  Mr.  Wright  said,  "why  do  the 
men  not  move  away  from  this  place  and  rent 
houses  in  the  neighboring  districts,  where  they 
can  get  them  at  reasonable  rent  or  be  allowed  to 
buy  their  own  houses  with  the  rent  which  here  is 
thrown  away?" 

"They  have  tried  it  in  large  numbers,"  Mr.  Wal 
lace  answered.  "But  those  who  did  move  away 
were  laid  off  on  the  first  occasion.  It  was  not  in 
MR.  HOARD'S  policy  to  pay  for  work  which  did  not 
allow  a  certain  per  cent  to  go  back  to  his 
pocket." 

"They  ought  to  have  gone  away  by  the  hundreds, 


86  A  STORY  FROM  PULLM4NTOWN 

when  they   found  out   that  there    was  not    work 
enough." 

"How  could  they?  The  oldest  and  best  workers 
had  as  a  rule  through  their  simple  way  of  living 
saved  a  little  money  out  of  the  millions  they  made 
for  MR.  HOARD;  that  money  was  standing  in  MR. 
HOARD'S  bank  here  in  Pullmantown.  As  long 
as  it  was  known  that  a  man  had  a  little  in  the 
bank,  it  was  considered  good  policy  to  give  him  work 
off  and  on,  not  lay  him  off  entirely,  and  to  give  fair 
promises  about  better  times,  as  long  as  he  had  a 
cent  to  spend  on  rent.  And  it  takes  a  good  deal 
of  money  for  a  man  with  a  family  to  break  up  and 
go  to  a  new  place." 

"The  doctor's  wife  said  to  me  the  other  day," 
Mrs.  Wright  interrupted,  "that  it  was  very  con 
siderate  in  the  company  to  divide  the  work  among 
the  people  these  hard  times,  to  give  each  one  two 
or  three  days'  work  in  the  week,  so  as  to  be  just 
to  all  of  them." 

"Different  views  of  the  same  matter,"  Mr.  Wal 
lace  coolly  said.  "By  giving  each  man  two  or  three 
days'  work,  he  just  makes  the  rent;  that  is  all 
which  they  are  after.  MR.  HOARD  gets  the  value 
of  all  his  dirty  walls,  if  the  families  inside  them 
starve;  that  is  none  of  his  business." 


THE  B/tRRACKS  37 

After  her  company  had  left    that    night,    Mrs. 
Wright  was  taken  with  a  violent  fit  of  weeping. 


One  cold  December  day  Mrs.  Wright  was  study 
ing  how  to  get  her  washing  done.  She  had  let  her 
girl  go,  as  that  kind  of  business,  which  they  at 
present  were  conducting,  did  not  allow  the  keeping 
of  a  girl.  Her  little  boy  had  a  severe  cold  from 
walking  the  long  distance  to  the  only  school  at  the 
place;  on  account  of  him,  she  did  not  wish  the 
washing  done  in  the  house. 

\Vhen  she  came  down  into  the  store,  the  tall 
Kentuckian,  with  whom  she  the  first  day  became 
acquainted,  was  standing  there.  She  liked  him, 
and  usually  spent  some  time  in  talking  with  him, 
when  she  happened  to  come  while  he  was  in  the 
store. 

"Could  you,  Mr.  Johnson,  tell  me  where  to  look 
for  a  woman  who  would  do  my  washing?"  she 
asked  him. 

"Go  to  the  barracks,  and  you  will  find  ten  for 
one.  I  guess  they  need  it,  all  of  them." 

"The  barracks!     Where  is  that?" 

"It  is  that  tumble-down  structure  of  thin  walls 
and  poor  timber,  near  the  foundry  block.  A  whole 


38  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

block  of  it,  with  families  huddled  together  in  two 
and  three  rooms." 

After  dinner  Mrs.  Wright  went  out  on  a  search. 
She  found  the  barracks,  and  went  in  through  the 
first  door  to  which  she  came.  Up  along  the  nar 
row  steps  she  crawled,  and  rapped  at  a  door.  A 
man  opened  it,  wiping  his  mouth,  as  if  he  had  just 
finished  eating.  He  was  a  strong,  muscular  man, 
with  an  open  face,  but  he  looked  very  thin. 

On  a  lounge  in  the  room  a  woman  was  sitting 
with  a  baby  on  her  lap;  two  little  girls  ran  to  her 
from  the  table,  when  they  saw  the  stranger.  The 
man  found  his  hat,  bid  good-bye  and  disappeared. 

Mrs.  Wright  could  not  refrain  from  scanning  the 
table,  a!  she  passed  it:  sliced  cold  potatoes,  salt, 
bread,  and  a  drop  of  black  tea  left  in  the  cup! 

Mrs.  Wright  felt  her  heart  sink. 

This  was  the  dinner  of  an  American  workingman ! 

She  seated  herself  by  the  side  of  the  woman  on 
the  lounge,  and  tried  with  tremulous  voice  to  tell 
her  errand  and  introduce  herself. 

It  was  a  young  woman  with  a  pair  of  brave 
brown  eyes  and  a  decided  voice. 

"But  I  see  you  have  three  babies;  you  are  not 
able  to  do  any  washing,"  Mrs.  Wright  added,  after 
she  had  told  her  errand. 


A  WORKWOMAN'S  DINNER  39 

"Yes,  let  me  do  it.  I  can,  and  I  shall  do  it  so 
as  to  please  you,"  the  young  mother  said  eagerly. 

Mrs.  Wright  felt  tears  starting  to  her  eyes. 

"You  must  excuse  me,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the 
table,  "but  I  noticed  this — is — is  it  common  for  you 
to  have  such  a  meal?" 

The  mother  put  her  baby  down  on  the  floor  and 
looked  full  at  the  stranger. 

"I  am  not  ashamed  of  our  circumstances;  it  is 
no  fault  of  ours.  I  will  tell  you  frankly  how  we 
are  situated.  My  husband  has  been  without  work 
for  fifteen  weeks.  Now  he  got  two  weeks'  work 
and  they  wanted  the  money  in  the  bank  for  rent. 
I  must  be  glad  if  I  can  give  him  to  eat,  what  you 
see  there." 

"But  why  did  you  not  refuse  to  pay  the  rent? 
You  have  got  to  live." 

"If  a  man  refuses  to  pay  his  rent,  the  bank- 
officials  will  write  on  the  back  of  his  check:  Did 
not  pay  the  rent.  And  that  man  will  be  laid  off 
inside  a  few  days." 

"Oh,  what  a  kitchen  floor!"  Mrs.  Wright  said. 
"How  can  you  ever  keep  it  clean?" 

"I  cannot.  It  is  made  of  lumber  so  soft  that 
you  can  pick  it  to  pieces." 

Mrs.  Wright  looked  at  the  walls  painted  a  light 
gray,  but  now  black  with  dirt. 


40  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

"What  do  you  pay  here?" 

"Nine  dollars  for  three  rooms.  We  have  lived 
here  for  eighteen  months.  Last  fall  I  begged  Mr. 
Horn  to  have  the  rooms  cleaned,  but  he  refused, 
though  we  have  paid  the  rent  all  the  time.  We 
were  forced  to  pay  three  dollars  for  a  broken  basin, 
which  had  been  broken  maybe  ten  years  before  we 
moved  in." 

"Why  did  you  submit  to  it?" 

"It  was  deducted  from  our  check.  Two  window 
panes  were  broken,  when  we  moved  in;  the  wom 
an  next  door  can  prove  that.  The  agent  wanted 
us  to  pay  for  them,  too,  but  I  told  him,  if  we  should 
have  to  do  without  them  while  we  lived  here,  we 
would  not  pay  for  them."  She  pointed  out  in  the 
yard.  "There  you  see  my  only  chemise  on  the 
line;  I  have  to  go  without  it  while  it  dries." 

"What  is  your  husband's  trade?" 

"He  is  a  carpenter.  He  has  to  pay  for  his  tools 
himself.  They  are  very  dear.  If  one  is  broken, 
there  goes  almost  half  a  week's  pay." 

"What  nationality  are  you?" 

"Americans;  born  in  Michigan,  both  of  us.  I 
never  knew  what  poverty  was,  till  I  came  to  this 
place.  If  I  wanted  ten  cents,  I  could  go  to  the 
pocket-book.  Now  I  have  to  go  to  a  neighbor 
and  run  my  face  for  it." 


TALKED  THE  SITUATION  OYER  41 

"And  those  little  ones— "Mrs.  Wright  slowly  said, 
and  stroked  the  baby's  hair. 

Here  the  mother  broke  down;  the  scornful  ex 
pression  gave  way  to  one  of  sorrow:  "That  is  the 
hardest.  Such  a  Christmas  I  never  lived!" 

That  afternoon  Mrs.  Wright  went  to  the  home  of 
one  of  the  other  merchants,  Mr.  Hill's,  and  had  a 
talk  with  his  wife.  Mrs.  Hill  told  just  the  same 
tales.  "Our  books  are  filled  with  bad  debts  from 
people  who  always  used  to  pay  their  bills,  and  they 
are  suffering  here  by  the  hundreds,"  she  said. 

The  two  ladies  talked  the  situation  over.  It 
would  not  do  to  go  home  to  a  warm  room,  a 
steaming  tea-kettle  and  a  well-filled  table,  know 
ing  that  all  around  people  were  sitting  in  dirty 
houses,  with  half-filled  stomachs,  little  of  coal  and 
no  prospects  whatever.  Mrs.  Hill  did  not  seem 
inclined  to  take  any  standpoint  as  to  the  cause  of 
the  suffering;  she  did  not  appear  capable  of  rising 
above  the  line  of  charity,  but  as  that  seemed  the 
only  available  help  at  present,  Mrs.  Wright  was 
satisfied. 

Mrs.  Hill  was  a  member  of  one  of  the  churches, 
and  the  two  ladies  went  to  see  the  minister's  wife. 
Here  they  found  one  of  the  teachers  from  the 
school,  who  had  come  to  tell  tales  of  suffering  be 
trayed  through  her  pupils. 


42  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTO1VN 

The  next  day  a  meeting  was  called  at  the  min 
ister's  home,  consisting  of  the  wives  of  the  other 
ministers,  the  teachers,  the  wives  of  the  store 
keepers,  physicians;  all  the  prominent  women 
were  there,  except  the  wives  of  the  managers, 
bank-officials,  superintendents,  and  the  other 
agents  of  MR.  HOARD. 

Within  a  week  the  ladies  of  Pullmantown  were 
in  correspondence  with  "The  Ladies'  Aid  Society" 
in  Chicago. 

"The  Ladies'  Aid  Society"  sent  out  their  officers 
to  examine  the  conditions,  and  it  was  resolved  to 
establish  a  branch  of  the  society  at  this  place. 

Rumors  of  these  proceedings  came  to  the  ears 
of  the  wife  of  one  of  the  managers,  and  informa 
tion  about  them  was  carried  to  MR.  HOARD  in  his 
princely  mansion  in  the  East. 

A  short  time  after, the  ladies  were  informed  that 
it  was  absolutely  against  the  wish  of  MR.  HOARD 
to  have  a  society  by  that  name  established  in  Pull 
mantown.  His  workingmen  were  not  destitute, 
and  he  would  not  tolerate  any  such  thing  as  an 
"Aid  Society"  on  his  premises. 

The  ladies  did  not  give  up  the  work,  but  they 
changed  the  name  to  "The  Ladies'  Mission,"  and 
after  this  their  doings  were  tolerated  or  ignored  by 
higher  authorities. 


THEIR  DOINGS  WERE  TOLERATED  43 

For  two  months  this  society  kept  up  seventy 
families,  settling  their  grocery  and  meat  bills  every 
two  weeks.  After  this  the  means  were  partly  ex 
hausted,  as  this  winter  brought  great  suffering  to 
all  neighboring  districts. 

At  one  of  the  last  meetings  of  the  society  one  of 
the  ladies  said:  "We  cannot  wonder  at  the  destitu 
tion  in  our  midst,  as  we  see  the  same  all  around  us." 

"I  don't  think  you  are  right  in  this  view,"  Mrs. 
Wright  said.  "This  community  is  different  from 
any  other  I  know  of.  No  tramps  or  idlers  have' 
come  loafing  to  fill  up  our  streets.  Those  men 
have  earned  the  millions  of  MR,  HOARD.  If 
they  had  had  the  just  part  of  their  earnings, 
they  would  have  been  able  to  stand  three  or  four 
years  like  this.  Let  them  now  get  some  of  those 
millions  to  live  on,  until  there  in  some  way  is 
effected  a  change  in  the  present  conditions — 
though  we  do  not  believe  MR.  HOARD'S  state 
ments  at  all,  when  he  claims  to  be  running  his 
business  at  a  loss." 

As  "The  Mission"  little  by  little  had  to  give  up 
its  work,  the  conditions  were  rapidly  turning  to  the 

worse. 

*  *  *  * 

The  longer  the  winter  lasted,  the  colder  it  be 
came,  and  thus  the  suffering  increased. 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 


44  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

Mrs.  Wright  was  in  the  habit  of  taking  her  little 
boy  to  school  every  morning,  to  be  sure  that  he 
would  not,  child-like,  saunter  along  and  get  too 
cold. 

Later  in  the  day  she  went  to  the  store.  She 
could  not  stay  at  home;  her  mind  was  occupied  with 
her  surroundings  all  the  time;  and  in  the  store 
there  would  be  plenty  of  information  from  all  parts 
of  the  town. 

It  was  an  exceedingly  cold  day;  the  windows 
were  covered  with  frost,  though  the  big  stove  was 
running  at  its  fullest  capacity.  Several  men  sat 
around  on  barrels  and  boxes.  They  were  laid  off, 
and  came  here  to  talk  together  and  get  the  news 
of  the  day. 

An  elderly  man  came  in,  rubbing  his  hands.  It  was 
Mr.  Hart,  a  German,  who  worked  in  the  foundry. 
Mrs.  Wright  had  enjoyed  many  a  conversation 
with  him.  His  small,  light-blue  eyes  twinkled  with 
the  humor  which  fills  the  North-German  Volks- 
lieder.  There  was  something  genuine  in  his  quick 
manners  and  concise  way  of  expressing  himself, 
v/hich  made  one  never  tired  of  his  company. 

To-day  he,  against  the  rule,  seemed  downcast. 
He  stamped  his  feet  and  unbuttoned  his  overcoat, 
while  ordering  some  butter,  cheese  and  tea. 


A  CUT  OF  FIFTEEN  CENTS  45 

"Did  you  get  the  honey  I  spoke  about?"  he  re 
luctantly  asked  Mr.  Wright. 

"No.     It  has  not  arrived  yet." 

"I  don't  think  I  can  take  it.      I  am  sorry." 

"Never  mind,   Mr.  Hart;   I  will  keep  it." 

"Are  you  laid  off,  Mr.  Hart?"  Mrs.  Wright  in 
quired. 

"To-day  I  am;  I  hope,  though,  to  commence 
again  soon.  But  we  had  a  cut  of  fifteen  cents 
yesterday." 

"A  cut!  I  thought  you  said  you  had  one  during 
the  summer." 

"So  we  had,  Ma'am.  We  were  cut  one  dollar 
in  July,  and  the  boss  said  then  that  we  would  not 
be  cut  any  more." 

"How  much  have  you  now?" 

"$i.6o,  But  it  is  very  hard  work,  and  it  is  dan 
gerous  work,  too.  I  have  been  burned  twice." 

"You  have!      How  did  that  happen?" 

"The  last  time  was  the  worst.  I  was  at  work 
with  an  ignorant  Pole.  If  there  is  one  drop  of 
water  on  the  skimmer,  the  melted  iron  will  run  all 
over.  He  took  no  care,  and  poured  a  stream  of 
iron  from  my  neck  down  to  my  ankle." 

Mrs.  Wright  shuddered. 

"Yes,  it  was  terrible.  I  was  laid  up  for  about 
a  month." 


46  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMJNTOH'N 

"Did  they  pay  you  any  damage?" 

"They  paid  my  wages  while  I  was  sick;  that 
was  all." 

"How  did  your  boss  seem  to  feel  about  cutting 
your  wages?" 

"I  believe  he  was  sorry,  but  did  not  dare  to  show 
it.  The  other  boss  we  had  was  a  fine  man,  a  gen 
tleman.  He  had  been  here  for  eleven  years,  and 
he  left  because  he  could  not  stand  the  cuts  in  our 
wages.  This  one  would  be  kind  too,  if  he  was 
allowed  to.  I  could  tell  he  felt  bad,  as  he  came  in 
with  the  paper  yesterday.  'I  suppose  you  have 
heard  of  the  cut,'  he  said. 

llil  have.  That's  the  way  you  treat  us.  You 
promised  the  last  time  that  our  wages  should  not 
come  down  any  more.  Then  you  take  advantage 
of  us,  when  hard  winter  is  on  us,  and  you  know 
we  have  no  way  of  bettering  ourselves.' 

"'You  know,  John,  I  cannot  help  it;  I  have  to 
do  as  I  am  instructed,'  he  said,  and  I  could  see 
the  fellow  did  feel  sorry.  The  hardest  on  me  was 
to  go  home  and  tell  my  wife  about  it,"  the  German 
finished,  while  he  picked  up  his  packages. 

That  night  Mrs,  Wright  wrote  to  Mr.  Wallace 
and  Miss  Kean,  and  asked  them  to  come  to  her 
house  to-morrow  night  if  possible. 


IF  THEY  WOULD  STAND  UP  47 

As  the  two  the  next  evening  sat  down  together 
in  the  parlor  Mrs.  Wright  said:  "I  wanted  to  find 
out  from  your  past  experience  here,  and  from  your 
fuller  knowledge  of  the  present  conditions,  can 
really  nothing  be  done  to  change  this  state  of 
affairs?  People  seem  to  quietly  submit  to  this  ex 
istence;  if  they  would  stand  up  as  a  body " 

Miss  Kean  and  Mr.  Wallace  looked  meaningly 
at  each  other;  then  Mr.  Wallace  jumped  from  his 
seat  and  leaned  against  the  table  in  front  of  Mrs. 
Wright. 

"Is  it  not  strange  how  different  people,  witfiout 
knowing  it,  can  resolve  to  do  the  same  thing,  be 
cause  the  course  of  events  has  brought  things  to  a 
turn  which  decidedly  asks  for  this  one  action? 
Last  night  I  was  with  one  man  from  the  uphol 
stery  department  and  one  from  the  brass  shops, 
and  we  decided  on  trying  once  more  to  organize 
the  working-people  of  this  place." 

Mrs,  Wright  jumped  up  too:  "That  is  just 
what  has  been  in  my  mind  for  several  days—" 

"Pardon  me,"  he  said,  laying  his  hand  over  hers; 
"I  want  to  tell  you  first*  that  at  the  same  moment 
as  I  was  at  work  for  this,  Miss  Kean,  without 
knowing  my  intentions,  had  three  girls  from  the 
laundry  in  her  room,  talking  the  same  question  up 
with  them." 


48  A  STORY  FROM  PULLM4NTOlfN 

Mrs.  Wright  turned  to  Miss  Kean,  who  sat  with 
her  hands  clasped  quietly  in  her  lap,  but  that  faint 
flush,  which  made  her  very  skin  speak,  and  that 
luster  in  her  eyes,  which  beautified  her  whole  be 
ing,  were  slowly  rising. 

Mrs.  Wright  laid  her  arm  around  the  girl's  shoul 
der  and  kissed  her. 

Then  she  turned  to  Mr.  Wallace  again:  "I  do 
not  wonder  at  the  women,  as  we  women  have 
been  so  used  to  having  no  place  in  social  construc 
tion;  but  you  men — why  have  you  remained  un 
organized  during  all  these  years,  helpless  single 
individuals,  exposed  to  any  kind  of  treatment?" 

"We  have  tried  to  organize  before  this.  We 
have  tried  it  twice.  But  the  bosses  had  their  spies 
among  us,  and  our  efforts  were  reported  to  head 
quarters.  The  leaders  were  Maid  off,'  not  to  come 
back  to  work  again — all  except  a  few.  I  was  one 
of  the  few,  because  they  did  not  wish  to  spare  me. 
The  decorative  painters  have  had  their  union  all 
the  time,  and  nobody  dared  to  object;  they  could 
not  do  without  us.  You  know  our  work  is  almost 
art.  But  as  soon  as  we  tri&d  to  establish  unions 
among  the  rest,  the  movement  was  cut  off.  They 
did  not  dare  to  forbid  the  unions,  so  they  did  not 
discharge  the  leaders.  They  simply  'laid  them  off' 
for  ever." 


LAID  THEM  OFF  FOREVER  49 

"But  they  could  not  May  off'    all  the  men." 

"No,  now  you  come  to  the  point,  if  the  men  had 
all  agreed,  they  could  not  so  easily  have  fought  us. 
But  you  will  see,  the  time  has  come." 

"While  I  remember  it,"  Miss  Kean  said,  "I  warn 
you  to  be  careful,  Mrs.  Wright.  We  are  sur 
rounded  by  spies,  and  will  be  still  more." 

Mrs.  Wright  nodded;  she  remembered  the  man 
whom  the  two  other  men  allowed  so  wide  a  space 
for  passing  between  them. 

"For  instance,"  Miss  Kean  went  on,  "I  saw  you 
yesterday  talking  to  Mary  Hall  in  the  store;  I  felt 
as  if  I  stood  on  coals,  and  I  could  not  get  you  to 
look  at  me.  She  is  one  of  the  'dollar  girls,'  be 
cause  she  is  a  friend  of  the  boss's  wife,  and  so  is 
Miss  Steele,  because  she  was  recommended  by  one 
of  the  other  foremen.  You  cannot  be  too  careful." 

"Now  let  us  consider  what  has  to  be  done,"  Mr. 
Wallace  said.  "Miss  Kean  will  take  care  of  the  few 
girls  in  the  electric  department,  and  she,  together 
with  two  of  the  girls  in  the  laundry,  will  organize 
those  in  the  laundry  department;  we  can  count  on 
them  all,  with  the  exception,  perhaps,  of  some  of 
the  *  dollar-girls.'  I  have  a  man  for  the  upholstery 
department  and  for  the  brass-shops.  Then  there 
is  a  German,  a  very  intelligent  fellow;  he  has 


50  A  STORY  FROM  PULLM4NTOWN 

studied  in  Munich  and  is  one  of  the  finest  machin 
ists  and  locksmiths  in  the  country,  but  he  is  retired, 
and  regards  the  American  workingman  with  an  ap 
proach  to  contempt;  his  wages  have  been  cut  and 
re-cut,  and  he  does  not  stand  much.  If  we  could  get 
hold  of  him,  he  would  take  every  German  on  the 
place,  and  all  those  from  Switzerland  and  Austria. 
But  I  dare  not  go  to  see  him,  as  I  feel  certain 
that  my  steps  are  watched." 

"I  will  go  to  him,"  Mrs.  Wright  said.  "I  know 
him.  I  had  a  long  talk  with  him  on  Heinrich 
Heine  and  Ferdinand  LaSalle  some  time  ago.  He 
is  a  declared  Socialist.  He  is  eloquent,  when  it 
takes  him,  and  has  a  great  deal  of  feeling,  too." 

"Well,  I  will  leave  him  to  you,  then.  Next,  we 
must  have  somebody  for  the  Scandinavians.  We 
have  here  both  Danes,  Swedes  and  Norwegians. 
They  are  slow  people,  especially  the  Danes  and 
Norwegians;  it  is  a  hard  task  to  get  their  ear,  but 
if  once  you  have  it,  you  will  keep  it.  They  are  of  a 
steadfast  character.  There  is  a  Swede,  a  tall,  gaunt 
fellow  with  a  face  like  an  eagle's;  he  used  to  work 
in  the  foundry  and  was  a  first-class  molder,  too. 
He  is  especially  enraged,  as  he  has  been  treated 
with  an  amount  of  injustice  uncommon  even  here. 
But  I  should  not  dare  to  approach  him  either,  for 
fear  of  giving  us  away  too  early." 


ORGANIZING  THE  WORKERS  51 

"I  will  take  him  too,"  Mrs.  Wright  declared. 

"He  lives  in  the  barracks,  in  the  rear,  with  an  old 
Swedish  widow,  who  keeps  boarders.  His  name 
is  Erik,  I  think — Erik  Swanson." 

"I  shall  find  him." 

"Now  it  strikes  me, "Mr.  Wallace  exclaimed, 
"there  is  an  Italian  painter,  a  fine  fellow  of  poet 
ical  inclinations;  we  are  on  friendly  terms.  I  shall 
work  him  up  and  let  him  take  all  the  Italians  in 
'the  dens'  by  the  brick-yard  in  his  charge." 

"And  I  know  a  Pole,  who  works  in  the  brick 
yard,"  Mrs.  Wright  said.  "He  has  been  laid  off 
for  a  couple  of  months,  and  I  gave  him  a  basket 
of  provisions  for  his  children,  the  last  time  he  was 
here.  He  speaks  better  English  than  most  of  his 
countrymen  and  has  been  in  this  country  for  many 
years.  I  am  going  to  try  what  he  can  do  among 
the  Poles.  Miss  Kean,  we  shall  rely  entirely  on 
you  as  far  as  the  girls  in  the  different  departments 
are  concerned." 

"No,  not  on  me.  By  no  means.  I  am  no 
speaker  at  all,  and  very  little  of  an  agitator." 

"Your  person  and  your  life  among  them  will  be 
the  best  kind  of  agitation,  as  soon  as  they  under 
stand  that  you  are  in  it,"  Mr.  Wallace  said  warmly. 

"Perhaps.  I  almost  think  so  myself;  but  as  an 
organizer  I  shall  rely  on  Miss  Welsh." 


52  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

"I  never  yet  was  exactly  posted  on  your  circum 
stances,"  Mrs.  Wright  said.  "I  only  know  that 
you  work  in  the  electric  department,  and  I  might 
almost  have  guessed  so.  What  are  your  wages?" 

"Ninety-one  cents  a  day." 

Mrs.  Wright  started  back.  "I  thought  you  said 
once  that  your  rent  amounted  to  $17.81 !" 

"So  it  does.  When  that  is  paid,  there  is  seven 
dollars  left  for  my  mother  and  myself  for  a  month's 
living.  We  could  not  exist,  if  my  brother  in  Col 
orado,  who  is  a  well-to-do  engineer,  did  not  send 
us  money." 

Mrs.  Wright  folded  her  hands  before  her,  unable 
to  speak. 

"Miss  Kean,  may  I  tell  your  history?"  Mr.  Wal 
lace  quietly  inquired. 

She  nodded. 

He  turned  to  Mrs.  Wright.  "Eight  years  ago 
Miss  Kean's  father  was  employed  by  MR.  HOARD 
as  watchman  by  that  gate,  which  governs  the  en 
trance  to  the  shops  near  the  depot.  One  day  a 
carpenter  came  with  a  box  of  tools  under  his  arm. 
Mr.  Kean  asked  him  for  his  pass,  as  it  was  against 
the  rules  to  allow  anybody  to  carry  tools  from  the 
premises  without  showing  a  pass.  The  carpenter 
answered  that  he  had  none.  Mr.  Kean  told  him 


DIED  AT  HIS  POST  53 

to  leave  the  tools  until  to-morrow  and  then  get    a 
pass. 

"The  man  became  so  enraged,  that  he  struck 
Mr.  Kean  with  the  hatchet  in  the  face  and  felled 
him  to  the  ground. 

"Mr.  Kean  was  in  an  unconscious  condition  car 
ried  to  his  home,  and  it  took  three  weeks  before  he 
again  got  the  power  of  speech.       He  got   up    and 
dragged  around,  but  was  never  able  to  work  after 
ward,  and  died  at  last  from  the  effects  of  the  blow." 
"And  MR.  HOARD,  what  did  he  do?" 
"Nothing.      The   doctor-bill   was   paid   and    his 
wages  were  paid  for  two  weeks  after  he  was  struck." 
"Please,    Mr.  Wallace,    don't    say    so!"       Mrs. 
Wright  cried,  hardly  knowing  what  she  said.   "Say 
that  MR.  HOARD  was  never  informed  of  the  circum 
stances!" 

"He  was.  First  the  widow  went  to  his  agents, 
managers,  superintendents,  and  what  all  their 
names  are — but  they  shook  their  heads;  they  could 
do  nothing.  Then  the  minister  of  the  church  to 
which  Mrs.  Kean  belongs,  wrote  twice  to  MR. 
HOARD,  stating  the  facts  in  full  and  registering  the 
letters,  but  no  answer  ever  came.  Since  then  Miss 
Kean  has  been  paying  him  twice  the  value  of  his 
house,  nay,  more  than  that,  has  practically  given 


54  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

him  all  her  time  those  eight  years  for    the    pitiful 
seven  dollars  a  month." 

Mrs.  Wright  had  turned  white. 

"It  is  almost  a  sin  to  tell  you — "  here  Miss 
Kean  was  interrupted  by  Mrs.  Wright  slowly  strok 
ing  her  hair. 

"Never  mind  me!"  she  said;  then  she  glided 
toward  the  door  and  disappeared  into  the  other 
room. 

She  walked  as  in  a  dream  to  her  bedroom. 

Involuntarily  she  sought  the  bed,  in  which  her 
little  boy  was  sleeping;  she  laid  her  cheek  against 
his  for  a  moment;  then  she  went  to  the  window. 

She  raised  her  hands  toward  the  star-lit  sky. 
"Oh,  Lord  of  life  and  love,  in  whom  I  believe  — 
how  long?  How  long?" 

When  she  after  a  while  returned  to  the  parlor, 
she  saw  Mr.  Wallace  bending  over  Miss  Kean  as 
if  supporting  her.  He  moved  quickly  away  on  hear 
ing  her  steps. 

Miss  Kean  arose  and  went  to  Mrs.  Wright. 

"You  looked  so  full  of  rest  and  peace,  when  you 
came  to  live  in  our  midst,  Mrs.  Wright,  that  it 
pains  me  to  see  how  much  suffering  you  have  to 
meet  with  here.  That  thought  checked  me  the 
first  evening  I  was  in  your  house.  You  remember 


AGAIN  AT  THE  BARRACKS  55 

we  spoke  of  the  physician  here  being  an  employee 
of  MR. HOARD'S.  I  came  near  stating  how  little  a 
physician  knew  his  true  duties,  but  I  felt  as  if  I 
wanted  to  spare  you.  You  were  happier  before 
you  came  here." 

"I  may  have  been  happier  in  some  ways.  But 
I  would  not  have  my  blindness  back  again  for 
anything.  Let  us  look  truth  full  in  the  face  and 

then  get  up  and  work." 

*  *  *  * 

The  next  forenoon  Mrs.  Wright  went  to  the  bar 
racks.  Slowly  she  ascended  the  narrow  stairway, 
thinking  of  how  many  miserable  existences  were 
hidden  in  this  structure,  which  was  erected  by 
selfishness  and  kept  up  by  greed.  She  heard  voices 
from  the  first  floor;  a  man  was  standing  in  an  open 
door. 

"Well,  when  will  you  pay  it?"  he  said    sharply. 

"Whenever  we  get  work  the  rent  will  be  paid," 
an  angry  voice,  apparently  a  woman's,  answered 
from  within. 

Mrs.  Wright  hurried  past  and  up  to  the  second 
floor.  Upon  her  knocking  at  the  door,  it  was 
opened  by  a  tall,  lean  fellow,  who  looked  as  if  he 
had  been  too  loosely  jointed  together;  his  trousers 
were  hanging  from  his  hips,  and  his  shoulders  were 
slightly  bent. 


56  A  STORY  FROM  PULLM/1NTOWN 

The  narrow,  beardless  face  with  the  sharp  feat 
ures  had  a  strong  resemblance  to  a  bird. 

"Is  your  name  Mr.  Swanson?" 

"Yes,  Ma'am." 

"I  should  like  to  have  a  moment's  talk  with  you." 

He  looked  suspiciously  at  her  and  went  ahead  of 
her  to  a  room,  looking  back,  as  if  he  felt  uneasy 
about  her  presence.  A  well-kept  room  it  was, 
bedspread  and  towels  white  as  snow,  pictures,  em 
broideries  and  quaint  vases  speaking  of  a  better 
home  far  off  in  the  old  country.  This  room  must 
be  the  widow's  room  and  the  best  in  the  house, 
Mrs.  Wright  thought.  On  the  floor  was  a  rug  of 
small  velvet  and  plush  pieces,  such  as  might  be 
left  over  in  the  upholstery  department. 

He  stood  and  looked  at  her  without  offering  her 
any  seat;  so  she  sat  down  on  the  bed. 

"I  came  to  see  you  about  yourself  and  about  the 
rest  of  the  suffering  workingmen  here." 

His  face  remained  as  immobile  as  if  the  reddish 
features  were  cast  in  bronze;  life  was  only  visible 
in  his  eyes,  which  were  fixed  on  her  with  a  scrutin 
izing,  half  suspicious,  half  astonished  look. 

"My  name  is  Mrs.  Wright,  store-keeper  Wright's 
wife." 

Immediately  his  countenance  cleared;  he  came 
nearer  and  leaned  against  the  foot  of  the  bed. 


He  stood  and  looked  at  her  without  offering  her  any  seat;  so  she 
sat  down  on  the  bed.— Page  56, 


ONE  OF  THE  INMATES  57 

"Oh,  I  know  you  now." 

"For  how  long  a  time   have  you   been    without 
work,  Mr.  Swanson?" 

"I  have  only  had  work  four  weeks  during  the 
last  year." 

"How  did  you  ever  manage  to  live?" 

"I  sent  to  Sweden  for  $300.00  which  I  had  stand 
ing  there,  and  when  I  had  lived  that  up,  took  out 
$100.00  that  I  had  standing  in  MR.  HOARD'S  bank. 
Now  that  is  lived  up  too." 

"I  wonder  that  you  stayed  here  and  lived  it  up, 
instead  of  going  somewhere  else." 

"You  see,  as  long  as  I  had  any  money  they  kept 
on  promising  me  work.  So  I  waited  and  waited, 
because  I  did  not  like  to  leave  the  old  lady  with 
whom  I  am  boarding.  She  has  nothing  to  rely  on 
except  what  she  makes  from  us  three  Swedish  boys, 
who  are  boarding  with  her.  I  «have  bought  two 
lots  six  miles  from  Chicago,  and  have  paid  $250 
on  them;  now  I  shall  lose  them  too." 

"That  is  too  bad!  How  did  you  come  to  buy 
them?" 

"Our  boss  talked  me  into  it — myself  and  several 
others;  I  suppose  he  made  a  fair  commission  on 
them.  He  kept  on  telling  us  to  buy  them,  and 
we  should  be  sure  of  steady  work.  A  short  time 


53  A  STORY  FROM  PULLM4NTOWN 

after,  I  was  laid  off,  and  so  were  the  others  in  turn. 
If  I  had  those  $250  now!" 

"Mr.  Swanson,  were  you  ever  in  any  kind  of 
union  or  society?" 

"I  am  in  'The  Helping  Hand,'  a  Swedish  help 
ing-society.  The  sick  members  get  five  dollars  a 
week  for  five  weeks;  but  I  have  never  been  sick." 

"Where  you  came  from  in  Sweden,  was  there 
no  union  in  which  workingmen  could  stand  as  a 
body,  not  only  for  the  sake  of  sickness  and  death, 
but  for  the  sake  of  their  struggle  in  life?  So  that 
they  all  as  one  man  could  stand  up  and  ask  for 
wages  which  they  could  live  on,  and  for  time 
enough  to  rest  in,  that  they  might  not  be  worn  out 
in  their  youth?" 

He  shook  his  head.  "I  never  knew  of  any. 
They  may  be  there  now,  but  I  don't  know  about 
it." 

"Don't  you  think  there  might  be  more  hope  of 
bettering  your  circumstances,  if  you  all  stood  to 
gether  as  one?" 

"I  should  think  so,"  he  slowly  answered,  as  if 
struggling  to  follow  the  thought. 

"We  are  going  to  try  what  can  be  done,  as  these 
conditions  must  not  continue.  We  are  going  to 
come  together  and  talk  it  over,  and  help  each 


BRING  HIM  WITH  YOU  59 

other.  We  want  you,  too;  they  say  you  are  a  good 
worker,  and  you  must  be  a  reliable  character,  since 
you  have  saved  your  money.  Will  you  come  to 
my  home  Saturday  night?  You  will  meet  friends 
there." 

He  looked  hesitatingly  up  and  down  at  her  dress, 
her  bonnet  and  gloves. 

"You  can  go  to  the  store;  that  will  be  the  best. 
You  know,  we  must  be  careful." 

He  nodded  decidedly,  as  if  commencing  to  com 
prehend. 

"I  shall  be  there,  and  Ma'am,  I  have  a  friend, 
a  Dane;  he  knows  more  about  such  things  than  I 
do." 

"Bring  him  with  you;  that  is  right!" 

From  there  she  went  to  the  home  of  Christian 
Dieterle,  the  German  machinist. 

She  found  him  at  home,  as  he  was  laid  off  for 
some  days.  His  face  was  lit  up  with  delight,  as 
he  opened  the  door  and  knew  her.  He  ran  to  the 
kitchen  door  and  called  his  wife,  introducing  Mrs. 
Wright  to  her. 

Soon  all  three  were  seated  in  the  parlor,  while 
two  little  girls  sat  in  the  bedroom  playing  with 
dollies. 

Mr.  Dieterle  was  a  Bavarian,  with  the  lively  feat- 


60  A  STORY  FROM  PULUAAKTOWH 

ures  and  quick  movements  of  the  race  from  this 
land  of  sun  and  of  beautiful  scenery.  He  had 
during  his  youth  traveled  through  all  Europe  and 
was  a  well-read  man.  His  wife  had  once  been  a 
beauty,  but  a  care-worn  look  made  her  appear  older 
than  he. 

Mrs.  Wright  commenced  talking  about  the  con 
dition  of  labor  in  the  old  country  compared  with 
this. 

She  evidently  struck  a  sore  point. 

Mr.  Dieterle  jumped  from  his  chair  and  paced 
the  floor. 

"The  wage-earners  in  the  old  country  are  much 
better  off  than  here.  I  have  no  regard  for  the 

American  workingman Excuse  me,  Ma'am," 

as  he  noticed  a  pained  expression  in  Mrs.  Wright's 
face,  "I  do  not  wish  to  hurt  your  feelings,  nor  do 
I  say  it  lightly.  If  we  in  Germany  had  had  your 
laws  and  your  institutions  to  build  our  work  on, 
why,  we  should  have  had  a  country  of  liberty  and 
equality  never  yet  seen  on  the  earth.  Think  of  what 
obstructions  the  German  workingmen  have  had  to 
fight  against,  and  look  at  them  to-day:  a  consol 
idated  mass,  feeling  all  as  one,  educating  them 
selves,  incessantly  drilling  themselves  to  the  fight 
which  is  on,  and  which  never  will  cease  until  we 


TRAINING  A  NEW  GENERATION  61 

have  gained  the  victory!  Imagine  us  under  our 
tyrannical  government  sending  Socialists  to  the 
Reichstag!" 

"I  know  you  are  right.  I  realize  it  with  humil 
iation.  But  remember,  you  have  been  suppressed 
for  so  long,  but  here — " 

"That  is  it !  Here  they  could  make  a  fairly  good 
living,  and  with  this  they  contented  themselves,  like 
ignorant  children.  I  have  tried  time  and  again  to 
associate  myself  with  the  American  workingman, 
tried  it  with  honest  efforts,  but  I  have  no  use  for 
him.  And  every  one  who  is  trained  in  the  old 
country  labor-school  will  tell  you  the  same.  Why, 
take  only  the  Socialistic  literature  scattered  broad 
cast  over  the  country  in  spite  of  the  government's 
vigilance.  We  are  training  a  new  generation  in 
the  study  of  national  economy,  teaching  them  to 
take  care  of  their  physical  self  without  help  from 
doctor  or  druggist,  raising  them  as  rational  beings, 
who  do  not  sell  their  souls  to  any  church,  but 
reason  for  themselves.  What  are  you  doing?" 

"No.  You  are  right.  With  us  this  work  is  go 
ing  on  in  the  educated  middle  class,  not  among  the 
laborers.  But,  Mr.  Dieterle,  the  time  is  ripe  now. 
I  will  not  give  up  my  faith  in  the  manhood  of  the 
American  laborer.  So  much  has  been  taking  up 


62  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMAKTOWN 

their  attention  in  this  great,  partly  uncultivated 
and  partly  unorganized  country,  that  they  have 
forgotten  to  look  to  themselves  as  a  body;  they 
have  prospered  individually,  until  the  universal  in 
justice  in  the  construction  of  society  is  crushing 
them  too.  Now  they  will  listen,  and  that  is  what 
I  came  to  see  you  about." 

Before  she  left,  she  saw  Mrs.  Dieterle  with  her 
hands  midway  on  the  table,  and  Mr.  Dieterle  pac 
ing  the  room  quicker  than  ever. 

They  both  of  them  decided  to  join  the  meeting 
at  Mr.  Wright's  house  Saturday  evening. 
•*  *  *  •* 

It  was  past  ten  o'clock  Saturday  evening, as  Mr. 
Wright  closed  his  store  after  having  put  the  last 
boxes  and  baskets  in  order,  and  ascended  the 
stairs  to  his  living  rooms.  As  he  opened  the  door, 
he  met  a  spectacle  unusual  in  their  house.  Parlor 
and  dining-room  were  thrown  in  one,  chairs  were 
brought  in  from  bedrooms  and  kitchen,  and  every 
available  place  was  taken  up.  His  wife  was  stand 
ing  talking  to  Miss  Welsh  from  the  laundry  de 
partment.  As  she  turned  toward  him,  he  saw  that 
her  face  was  flushed  with  tears. 

And  Miss  Welsh  seemed  agitated  too. 


CHARITY  SUBSTITUTED  FOR  JUSTICE  63 

Men  with  hard,  brown  hands  and  men  with  fin 
gers  like  a  lady's,  figures  bent  from  hard  work  and 
quick,  intellectual  looking  men,  young  girls  frail 
and  nervous  looking,  and  older  ones  fraught  with 
a  care  which  heightened  the  expression  of  charac 
ter  in  their  faces,  filled  the  room.  In  the  middle 
of  it  was  a  woman  with  snowy  white  hair,  sitting 
like  a  grandmother  for  all.  It  was  Mrs.  Kean. 

Mr.  Wallace  was  talking  with  Mr.  Dieterle,  and 
Miss  Kean  had  seated  herself  between  the  gaunt 
Swede  and  his  friend  the  Dane. 

Mrs.  Wright  talked  with  her  husband  for  a  few 
moments,  after  which  she  went  to  Mr.  Wallace. 

Mr.  Wallace  went  to  the  table  in  the  middle  of 
the  room. 

"Friends!  Here  we  have  come  together.  May 
it  not  be  in  vain!  For  months  men  and  women  at 
this  place  have  lived  from  charity.  Our  fate  we 
have  in  common  with  the  rest  of  the  world. 
Those  who  have  the  power  to  take  the  laws  in 
their  hands,  have  substituted  charity  for  justice. 
Wherever  an  organism  has  outlived  itself  and  is 
not  removed  and  buried, it  decays  and  poisons  the 
air. 

"Thus  charity,  the  dead  factor  from  an  outlived 
society,  is  to-day  filling  the  world  with  foulness, 


64  A  STORY  FROM  PULLM4NTOUSN 

and  poisoning  the  life  of  human  beings,  who  do 
not  get  up  and  remove  it. 

"Let  us  begin  our  work  together  by  denouncing 
the  idea  of  chanty,  and  when  it  is  wiped  out  of 
existence,  let  us  stand  on  the  cleared  ground,  look 
ing  each  other  in  the  face,  asking  each  other  what 
is  next  to  be  done.  I  know  what  I  think  ought  to 
be  done;  now  I  want  to  know  if  you  think  the 
same.  Will  any  of  you  tell  us  what  thoughts  the 
last  years  in  Pullmantown  may  have  brought  to 
you?" 

From  behind  the  stove  the  tall  Kentuckian 
arose. 

"That  is  right,"  Mr.  Wallace  exclaimed;  "we 
want  to  hear  an  American!" 

"I  am  no  speaker,"  Mr.  Johnson  said,  with  a 
slight  shaking  of  his  voice;  "I  only  want  to  say  a 
few  words,  but  they  come  from  my  heart. 

"We  workingmen  are  in  a  situation  unworthy  of 
men;  but  in  one  way  it  is  only  just;  we  reap  what 
we  have  sowed.  We  were  satisfied  as  long  as  we 
had  our  three  meals  a  day  and  a  bed  to  sleep  in. 
If  they  gave  us  that,  we  did  not  ask  what  they 
did  with  the  rest.  We  left  a  small  minority  to 
make  the  laws  for  us  and  for  our  children. 

"It  is  hard  for  a  man  to  get  down  on    the  bare 


WANT  TO  ORGANIZE  AT  ANY  COST  65 

ground;  but  if  that  may  help  him  to  stand  up  and 
beome  a  man,  the  price  paid  is  not  too  high.  I 
am  here  to-night  to  say  from  the  carpenters,  that 
they  want  to  organize  at  any  cost.  As  many  as 
have  work  say  they  are  willing  to  run  the  risk  of 
losing  their  job,  rather  than  to  remain  unorganized 
any  longer. 

"But  we  are  inexperienced;  some  of  you  must 
come  and  help  us." 

There  was  silence  for  a  while,  after  he  had  sat 
down.  Then  a  fine-looking  man  who  had  been 
leaning  against  the  door-post  and  with  deep  inter 
est  following  every  word,  made  his  way  through 
the  room.  It  was  Mr.  Dieterle,  the  German 
machinist. 

"I  am  glad  to  know  that  you  are  an  American 
workingman,"  he  said,  heartily  shaking  the  hand 
of  the  big  Kentuckian. 

Then  representatives  from  the  molders  and  up 
holsterers  arose  and  announced  that  their  men 
wanted  to  organize,  and  those  of  them  who  yet  had 
money  were  willing  to  pay  the  expenses. 

"I  am  a  man  without  family, "Mr.  Wallace  said. 
"I  am  willing  to  spend  my  last  cent  in  behalf  of  a 
betterment  of  the  conditions  existing  here." 

Miss  Kean  looked   at    him,  until   her    gaze    at- 


66  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

tracted  his  attention.     She  then  sent  him  an  ear 
nest  nod. 

"I  am  with  you  up  to  half  of  my  property,  if  I 
then  could  see  you  people  organized,"  Mr.  Wright 
declared. 

Mrs.  Wright  left  her  place  and  went  to  her  hus 
band's  side. 

It  was  decided  to  hold  another  meeting  next 
Saturday,  and  then  have  every  one  of  the  factories 
and  shops  represented. 

Miss  Welsh  told  about  the  gross  injustice  taking 
place  in  the  laundry.  Girls  working  side  by  side, 
doing  the  same  work  with  the  same  ability,  were 
paid  So  cents,  91  cents  or  a  dollar,  just  as  it  suited 
the  foreman  to  put  the  price.  She  deplored  the 
demoralizing  effect  this  way  of  doing  business  natu 
rally  would  have  on  the  girls;  still  she  knew  that 
a  great  majority  of  them  would  be  in  for  organi 
zation. 

*  *  *  * 

February  had  come,  with  its  short,  sunless  days 
and  long  evenings,  those  evenings  so  highly  valued 
by  those  who  can  gather  around  their  books  and 
papers  in  warm  and  cozy  rooms. 

In  Mrs.  Wright's  parlor  the  light  from  the  gas 
and  from  the  shining  windows  in  the  store  tried  to 
make  one  forget  the  cold  outside. 


THOUGHTS  THAT  A  PICTURE  BROUGHT  67 

This  room,  in  contrast  with  the  common 
American  merchant-home,  had  its  walls  lined  with 
books.  There  were  only  a  few  pictures  on  the 
walls,  fine  engravings  most  of  them.  One  of  them 
represented  the  Aral  Sea.  Two  flamingoes  were 
the  only  living  beings;  they  were  standing  in  the 
water  surrounded  by  rushes;  around  them  were  sky 
and  water  meeting  each  other,  gliding  together  in 
a  silent  embrace;  the  picture  might  as  well  repre 
sent  eternal  rest. 

Miss  Kean  was  sitting  in  one  of  the  rocking- 
chairs.  She  was  alone  in  the  room.  She  had 
been  reading,  but  now  her  book  lay  in  her  lap,  and 
her  eyes  sought  the  picture  in  front  of  her. 

It  seemed  to  pour  rest  into  her  soul,  and  she  felt 
for  a  moment  as  if  she  needed  rest,  harmony,  peace 
— needed  for  a  moment  to  leave  behind  her  the 
struggle  and  suffering,  the  bitterness  and  despair, 
which  usually  met  her.  How  good,  how  grand  of 
character,  how  wide-seeing  and  how  near  the  ideal 
type  of  man  those  ought  to  be  who  lived  in  har 
monious  surroundings!  she  thought  with  a  sigh. 
What  a  race  of  men  and  women  we  would  get, 
if  there  were  houses  with  marble  steps,  paintings 
on  the  walls,  no  leaking  faucets  and  plenty  of  ap 
ples  upon  the  table!  And  most  of  all,  if  there  was 


68  A  STORY  FROM  PULLM/1NTOWN 

no  more  any  uncertainty  about  the  coming  day, 
if  in  sickness  or  old  age  or  death,  no  matter  what 
might  happen,  every  human  being  knew  that 
the  privilege  of  a  truly  human  life  was  theirs! 

Sometimes  it  seemed  so  hopeless.  The  worst 
was  not  the  daily  sufferings  for  the  necessity  of 
life;  the  worst  was  the  waste  of  strength  which 
might  have  gone  to  form  a  better  race. 

The  intellect,  the  energy,  the  true  manhood  of 
which  she  every  day  saw  traces  among  those  work- 
ingmen  and  their  wives — to  what  could  it  have 
been  developed,  had  not  every  passing  day  done 
its  share  to  crush  it?  Poverty  ties  the  soul  to  the 
dust.  Here  was  a  community  where  during  four 
teen  years  no  food  for  man's  intellect  had  been 
found.  How  superior  human  mind  must  be,  if 
men  can  pass  through  the  ordeal  of  such  fourteen 
years  and  not  entirely  lose  the  stamp  of  manhood! 

A  library — such  a  mockery !  A  fraud  like  all  the 
rest!  Three  dollars  a  year  as  a  fee  from  men  who 
needed  every  penny;  and  then, what  old,  antiquated 
reading  did  it  contain !  The  rulers  of  this  place 
took  care  that  nothing  which  might  encourage 
genuine  thinking  came  within  those  walls. 

Lectures!  Once  in  a  while  a  Republican  lec 
ture,  which  was  an  insult  to  these  men,  who  in  sil 
ence  grinded  their  teeth  against  it. 


STEPS  HEARD  IN  THE  HALL-WAY  G9 

And  those  mothers  in  the  prisons,  without  nice 
yards,  without  gardens,  with  dusty  roads  and 
swamp  land  around  them,  with  nothing  in  their 
homes  to  impress  the  children's  mind  with  beauty 
— during  all  these  years  they  had  been  obliged  to 
do  without  a  kindergarten,  until  the  city  a  few 
months  ago  had  seen  fit  to  take  steps  in  that  di 
rection! 

Miss  Kean  looked  again  at  those  walls  lined  with 
books  and  at  the  peaceful  pictures. 

"Replenish  the  earth  and  subdue  it"— were  not 
these  the  words  ? 

From  subduers  men  had  become  the  subdued, 
with  the  exception  of  a  small  number. 

It  seemed  to  her  as  if  youth  never  had  been  hers, 
as  if  her  years  were  an  hundred. 

Steps  were  heard  in  the  hall-way. 

She  listened,  she  lifted  her  head,  and  the  slow 
color  gave  life  to  her  face. 

In  a  moment  the  door  was  opened,  and  a  man 
quickly  entered  the  room. 

"You  are  here  already!"  Mr.  Wallace  said,  as 
he  greeted  her.  He  laid  a  package  of  papers  on 
the  table,  while  she  resumed  her  seat. 

She  looked  in  her  book;  he  paced  the  floor 
quicker  and  quicker,  looking  at  her  every  time  he 
turned. 


70  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

At  last  he  broke  out:  "I  cannot  stand  it,  Miss 
Kean;  I  must  speak  now,  before  any  one  else 
comes  in.  All  day  have  I  been  promising  myself 
that  the  first  moment  I  saw  you  alone,  I  should  ask 
for  an  explanation. 

"You  knew  I  was  waiting  for  you,  when  our 
meeting  last  night  broke  up;  why  would  you  not 
let  me  take  you  home?" 

She  looked  appealingly  at  him. 

He  came  to  the  table  close  by  her  chair. 

"You  must  answer  me,  or  it  will  drive  me  crazy." 

"You  know  I  am  always  glad  to  have  your  com 
pany,  Mark — but — last  night  I  did  not  wish  for  it." 

"And  why  not?  I  pray,  let  me  know  your 
thoughts;  it  may  be  the  best  for  both  of  us." 

She  clasped  her  hands  with  a  pained  expression. 

"I  do  not  know  my  thoughts  myself;  how, then, 
can  I  let  you  know  them?" 

"Was  it  because  of — because  of  what  I  said  to 
you  in  the  hall-way?" 

She  did  not  answer,  but  he  saw  that  her  eyes 
were  filled  with  tears. 

"You  knew  what  I  was  going  to  tell  you  on  our 
way  home,  and  you  did  not  wish  to  hear  it.  I  can 
only  say:  even  if  the  time  never  should  come  when 
you  might  wish  to  hear  it,  my  feelings  toward  you 
will  never  be  changed." 


He  suddenly  understood  that  this  was  her  original  self,  the  one  she 
would  have  been,  had  not  the  struggle  for  existence  been  gnawing 
her  youth. — Page  71. 


OF  THB 

UNIVERSITY 


A  GLIMPSE  OF  ANOTHER  SELF  71 

"I  do  not  want  a  shadow  of  a  misunderstanding 
between  us;  we  are  friends  and  shall  be  so  forever 
— but — if  I  only  could  explain  myself!  Don't  you 
know  from  your  own  life,  Mark,  that  there  are 
times  of  quietness  when  we  feel  ourselves  mostly 
as  individuals,  living  our  own  life,  absorbed  in  our 
own  interest;  and  again,  there  are  times  when  our 
own  self  is  swallowed  up,  becoming  identified  with 
all  the  souls  around  us?" 

She  arose  and  walked  to  the  opposite  side  of  the 
table,  he  looked  into  her  face;  never  had  he  seen 
her  look  that  way  before!  Her  cheeks  were  burn 
ing  as  bethought  they  never  could;  her  eyes  were 
shining  with  a  glow  which  he  would  have  attributed 
to  people  of  different  physical  qualities  than  those 
belonging  to  her. 

He  suddenly  understood  that  this  was  her  original 
self,  the  one  she  would  have  been,  had  not  the 
struggle  for  existence  been  gnawing  her  youth. 

Overwhelmed,  dazed  as  before  a  heavenly  vision, 
he  remained  rooted  to  the  spot,  holding  her  gaze, 
waiting  for  further  words. 

"It  is  impossible  for  me  to  tell  you  how  I  have 
been  feeling  lately,"  she  went  on,  catching  her 
breath.  "I  have  been  with  those  people;  their 
suffering  has  been  mine;  their  bitterness,  their  hu- 


72  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMAHTOWN 

miliation  has  been  mine.  It  makes  no  difference 
that  I  have  my  bread  by  my  brother's  generosity, 
while  they  have  not;  the  want  of  bread  is  almost 
the  least;  the  degradation,  the  loss  of  free  men's 
rights,  the  utter  subjugation  under  the  power  of 
circumstances!  — 

"I  am  a  slave  together  with  them;  I  am  degraded 
every  time  they  are!  Whether  it  is  single  individ 
uals  that  have  sold  their  souls  to  the  devil,  as  in 
the  old  mediaeval  tales,  whether  it  is  all  of  us,  who 
are  alike  guilty  for  having  built  up  a  society  with 
slaves  and  masters — I  do  not  know.  I  do  not 
pretend  to  be  able  to  point  at  the  causes  or  to  give 
the  remedy;  I  only  see  the  results  as  they  are. 

"There  is  a  time  upon  us,  my  friend,  when  the 
life  of  the  individual,  personal  interests,  comfort 
and  joy,  are  out  of  the  question,  vanishing  before 
the  one  all-absorbing  question:  How  can  we  get 
these  things  adjusted?  Do  you  understand  me?" 

He  nodded.  He  was  unable  to  speak.  She 
who  had  been  the  personification  of  calmness,  of 
patient  endurance,  she  who,  according  to  her  own 
words,  was  unable  to  express  herself  at  liberty — if 
all  their  women  were  like  her,  sons  and  husbands 
and  brothers  would  not  suffer  long! 

She  continued:     "Years  ago  I  promised  myself 


A  PUBLIC  MEETING  PLANNED  73 

that  I  never  would  bring  a  child  into  this  life-drain 
ing  existence.  I  had  so  high  a  conception  of  mar 
riage  that  it  seemed  impossible  to  drag  it  down 
into  this  atmosphere.  Wherever  soul  meets  soul, 
they  ought  to  enter  into  life  without  reluctance  or 
anxiety,  in  full  joy,  in  the  feeling  of  their  supreme 
right  to  be  the  makers  of  their  own  destiny." 

Mr.  Wallace  would  have  answered,  but  at  the 
same  time  steps  were  heard  from  the  kitchen  to 
ward  the  room.  He  reached  out  his  hand  and  met 
hers  across  the  table.  He  wrung  it  silently  and 
walked  across  the  room  to  the  small  table  with 
plants  placed  by  the  window. 

Mrs.  Wright  noticed  that  Miss  Kean  was  labor 
ing  under  an  excitement  unusual  to  her,  but  it  did 
not  surprise  her;  these  were  unusual  times. 

The  three  sat  down  reading  a  letter  from  one  of 
the  leaders  of  a  great  labor  organization,  announc 
ing  his  intention  to  come  out  and  remain  with  them 
for  a  while,  in  order  to  organize  the  workingmen 
and  call  some  public  meetings. 

It  was  decided  to  rent  a  hall  in  a  neighboring 
district,  as  the  only  one  in  Pullmantown  rented 
out  at  twenty  dollars  a  night,  and  moreover,  they 
would  never  be  allowed  to  hold  this  kind  of  meet 
ings  in  it. 


74  A  STORY  FROM  PULLM4NTOU/N 

After  a  while  Mr.  Wallace  prepared  to  go,  as  he 
was  expected  in  the  foundry  block,  where  the  mol- 
ders  and  melters  were  to  meet  to-night. 

Miss  Kean  was  sitting  by  Mrs.  Wright's  desk 
wrapping  up  some  papers,  as  he  came  to  bid  her 
good-bye.  Behind  them  Mrs.  Wright  was  busy 
with  her  cupboard. 

As  Mr.  Wallace  reached  out  for  the  papers,  he 
said  as  answer  to  the  silent  gaze  which  met  him: 
"A  new  day  will  be  dawning;  at  that  time  we  shall 
take  up  the  thread  which  we  dropped  to-night;" 
— and  lower — "until  then,  I  thank  you  for  to 
night!" 

*,.'*'..#.;'.* 

During  the  month  of  March  a  remarkable  change 
became  noticeable  in  Pullmantown. 

Before  this  men  and  women  had  gone  to  their 
work  by  the  twos  or  threes,  depressed  and  hope 
less,  uncertain  about  the  coming  days  and  with  this 
uncertainty  stamped  on  their  whole  being.  Half- 
fed  and  poorly  clad  they  had  trudged  along  the 
wonted  road  to  a  new  day's  drudgery,  which  would 
allow  them  a  bare  existence.  Tired  from  the 
work  they  would  go  home  in  the  evening,  dissat 
isfied  with  the  dirty  surroundings  and  a  scant  table 
and  without  a  ray  of  hope  for  a  better  future. 


A  HOPE  WAS  GROWING  75 

Now  they  seemed  to  raise  their  heads.  In  the 
morning  eager  faces  would  meet  each  other;  a 
quick  talk,  an  encouraging  word  would  pass  be 
tween  man  and  man;  they  would  go  to  work  feel 
ing  that  a  common  cause  was  holding  them  to 
gether.  They  were  no  more  upholsterers,  carpen 
ters,  painters,  molders,  repairers;  they  were  all 
wage-earners,  men  with  interests  in  common,  a 
body  ready  to  protect  each  single  member. 

Perhaps  none  of  them  felt  this  more  than  the 
poor,  ignorant  Poles  and  Italians  in  "the  dens"  by 
the  brick-yard;  these  people  doing  the  hardest 
work,  living  in  hovels  built  so  low  that  a  common 
sized  woman  could  touch  the  ceiling  with  her 
hand. 

Their  nationality    had   always  separated    them 
from  the  other  inhabitants  of  the  place    belonging 
to  the  Anglo-Saxon    and    Gothic-Germanic    race, 
and  so  had  their  work,  inferior  to  skilled  labor  as 
it  was. 

Now  they  felt  that  their  fellow-men  took  inter 
est  in  them;  they  were  not  only  toilers,  they  were 
men  with  the  rest. 

The  educating  effects  of  organized  labor  showed 
themselves  from  the  very  beginning. 

And  as  the  men  among  themselves  began  to  rec- 


76  A  STORY  PROM  PULLM/MTOWN 

ognize  their  rights  of  manhood,  a  hope  was  grow 
ing  that  it  might  be  recognized *by  society  too. 

They  came  home  to  supper  filled  with  a  new 
life,  dressed  themselves  and  hurried  through  their 
evening  meal.  Those  who  were  not  prevented  by 
the  care  of  children  took  their  wives  along,  and 
from  each  prison-like  block  started  a  flock  of  la 
borers  who  had  commenced  breathing  the  air  of 
freedom — that  inner  consciousness  of  human  worth 
of  which  no  tyranny  nor  deprivation  can  bereave  a 
man. 

Off  they  went  along  the  swamp  land  yet  bound 
by  frost,  in  the  bitter  winter  which  was  prevailing 
during  March,  1894,  but  above  them  the  star-lit 
sky  and  within  them  the  life  of  a  dawning  will. 
They  went  to  a  hall  belonging  to  them  for  those 
short  hours,  to  meet  a  friend  and  organizer  who 
came  to  help  them  in  becoming  men. 

The  narrowness  of  their  houses,  the  forced  si 
lence  under  the  abuses  and  injustices  of  their  bosses 
were  forgotten ;  here  was  room,  and  here  they 
could  use  a  free  man's  privilege  to  speak  out  all 
that  was  in  them.  And  they  were  no  longer  afraid 
of  what  they  said,  since  they  realized  the  strength 
of  being  a  body.  They  let  loose  the  bitterness  of 
years,  their  deep-rooted  hatred  to  the  man  who 


AS  A  VOICE  FROM  ABOVE  77 


had  bought  them,  life  and  soul,  their  contempt  for 
the  miserable  creatures  of  his,  who,  with  a  few 
honest  exceptions,  had  done  their  share  to  embit 
ter  their  lives. 

And  they  did  not  express  their  sentiments  for 
their  own  relief  and  satisfaction  alone;  hundreds 
of  sympathizing  fellow-men  from  neighboring  dis 
tricts  and  from  Chicago  came  to  hear  their  tales. 

But  it  was  not  alone  statements  of  their  degra 
dation — those  statements  which  were  bound  to 
come,  and  to  come  with  a  higher  degree  of  violence 
the  longer  they  had  been  kept  back — which  was  re 
ported  during  those  evenings.  There  were  dec 
larations  of  faith,  of  hope  and  of  love,  of  faith  in 
justice  and  truth  as  the  strongest  elements,  of  hope 
in  the  dawn  of  another  era  for  mankind,  of  love 
which  unites  all  as  one. 

The  winter  of  '94 — one  of  the  last  winters  be 
fore  the  great  rebuilding  of  society  which  now  with 
out  doubt  will  come — had  brought  the  majority  of 
the  people  in  the  world  to  a  point  of  starvation. 
Men  and  women  took  the  life,  which  they  never 
had  asked  for,  and  which  they  were  not  enabled  to 
sustain. 

Those  meetings  of  the  workingmen  from  Pull- 
mantown  came  to  many  as  a  voice  from  above. 


78  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

Many  a  suicide  was  prevented,  many  a  heart-broken 
man  and  woman  found  strength  to  keep  up  the 
struggle  by  witnessing  the  self-sacrificing  zeal  of 
those  workingmen  in  their  efforts  to  unite.  They 
forgot  that  they  were  artists  in  painting,  and  un 
skilled  laborers,  geniuses  in  mechanical  work,  and 
drudges  in  the  clay  of  the  brick-yard;  they  only 
knew  that  they  all  were  wage-earners,  and  what 
money  one  of  them  had  was  the  other  one's  too, 
until  they  either  starved  together  or  bettered  their 
conditions. 

Therefore  those  evening  meetings  became  meet 
ings  of  true  religion  to  those  who  took  part  in  them. 

And  those  from  the  large  city,  who  came  closest 
to  being  fellow  sufferers  with  the  wage-earners  of 
Pullmantown — the  wage-earners  in  the  big  stores 
— came  to  listen. 

Strange  how  they  had  the  same  tales  to  tell! 

From  Pullmantown  it  was  told  that  when  MR. 
HOARD  had  given  money  to  a  church  or  to  Re 
publican  campaigns,  his  workingmen  had  had  to 
pay  it  through  a  reduction  in  wages. 

From  the  big  stores  it  was  told  about  two  mil 
lions  given  to  a  museum,  while  the  wages  of  the 
employees  were  put  down  ten  per  cent.  Thus  the 
employees  were  forced  to  give  two  millions  to  a 


CHARITY  AUD  ROBBER  Y  79 

museum,  while  they  themselves  merely  existed, 
and  their  chiefs  adorned  their  own  heads  with  a 
crown  of  glory  for  the  gift. 

One  of  the  sales-ladies  from  another  big  store 
arose  and  said: 

"You  know  their  charity  globes  from  last  sum 
mer  for  the.  babies  in  Lincoln  Park  with  a:  'Have 
you  put  in  a  dime?' 

"They  claimed  to  give  ten  per  cent  of  their  profit 
for  three  days  of  the  week  to  this  purpose;  how 
did  they  dare  to  give  away  the  money  robbed  from 
us,  while  we  were  half  starving?  I  used  to  have 
seven  dollars  a  week  in  the  glove  department;  at 
the  same  time  as  they  gave  away  ten  per  cent  of 
the  profit,  they  paid  me  four  dollars! 

"I  would  see  my  fingers  rot  before  I  would  put 
one  cent  in  their  globes." 

An  uproar  of  approval  arose  from  haggard-look 
ing  citizens  to  whom  public  charity  had  offered 
soup  twice  a  day  for  work  on  the  streets,  and  if  they 
did  not  wish  to  ruin  their  only  suit  of  clothes — • 
those  among  them  who  had  garments  worthy  of 
that  name — and  thus  make  impossible  every  chance 
of  getting  work,  then  they  were  denounced  as 
tramps  and  idlers. 

One  of  these  men  got  the  floor  and  said: 


80  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMAKTOWM 

"Some  years  ago  a  physician  in  the  old  country 
wanted  to  prove  that  soup  used  alone  was  without 
nutritious  value,  but  that  it,  as  a  stimulant,  taxed 
too  highly  a  system  which  was  not  in  other  ways 
well  supplied.  He  put  a  dog  in  one  pen  and  gave 
it  nothing  but  water,  and  a  dog  in  another  pen  and 
gave  it  nothing  but  soup.  The  last  one  died  four 
days  earlier  than  the  first  one.  If  this  was  good 
soup,  what  may  not  be  said  of  city  soup?" 

An  outburst  of  laughter  greeted  him  in  spite  of 
the  earnestness  of  the  meeting. 

Mr.  Dieterle,  the  German  Socialist,  asked  for  a 
few  moments. 

"I  simply  wish  to  give  my  definition  of  the  idea, 
charity.  Those  who  take  upon  them  to  make  the 
laws  of  our  society  and  to  enact  those  laws  have 
created  conditions  under  which  women  carry  their 
offspring  in  anxiety  and  sorrow,  conditions  under 
which  babies  are  born  into  deprivation  of  good  air 
and  full  mother-care;  when  those  babies  are  near 
dying,  people  hurry  them  to  a  park  and  pay  for 
them,  rubbing  their  hands  in  glee  over  their  own 
goodness. 

"Our  rulers  make  conditions  under  which  men 
and  women  are  starving,  and  then  they  arrange 
charity-balls,  societies  and  soup  to  keep  back  the 


A  PLASTER  ON  A  SORE  CONSCIENCE  81 

ebbing  life,  feeling  highly  pleased  with  this    their 
godlike  mission  on  earth. 

"Why  did  they  not  come  forth  and  pay  the  mil 
lions  of  taxes,  out  of  which  they  had  cheated  the 
commonwealth? 

"Charity  is,  as  a  rule,  a  plaster  on  a  sore  con 
science.  In  fewer  instances  it  is  a  well-meant  desire 
to  better  society,  but  a  desire  taking  a  wrong  aim." 

A  well-dressed  man  arose  and  asked  for  the  floor. 

"I  am  a  teacher,"  he  said.  "This  is  the  third 
evening  I  have  listened  to  you. 

"I  simply  wish  to  say:  You  are  not  aware  how 
many  thinking  people,  teachers,  lawyers,  physi 
cians,  and  sometimes  ministers  too — you  have  had 
proof  of  that  yourself" — a  cheer  from  a  hundred 
voices  interrupted  him,  as  the  people  from  Pull- 
mantown  knew  that  they  had  at  least  one  minister 
in  their  midst  who  was  a  true  preacher  of  life  and 
joy — "how  many  such  people,  I  say,  are  siding  with 
you  in  the  position  you  are  taking.  You  must 
make  your  demands,  thus  showing  your  valuation 
of  yourselves,  and  you  must  make  them  until  they 
are  heard." 

Hearty  applause  followed  him,  as  he  withdrew. 
*  *  *  * 

This  time  it  seemed  as  if  the  managers  and  bosses 


32  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

gave  up  their  old  means  of  curing  the  workingmen, 
whenever  organization-ideas  beset  them;  this  time 
nobody  was  laid  off.  The  reason  was  simply  that 
the  movement  now  was  so  wide-reaching,  so  de 
termined, that  they  would  have  had  to  lay  off  most 
of  their  force  in  order  to  crush  it.  But  the  organ 
ized  workingmen  were  abused  more  than  ever  by 
the  bosses,  especially  those  who  were  known  as 
leaders. 

The  rent  was  demanded  as  severely  as  ever,  not 
withstanding  the  unusually  hard  winter  and  the 
lack  of  work. 

Mr.  Hart, the  German  founder,  was  out  of  work; 
and  the  general  depression,  in  himself,  in  his  fam 
ily,  in  all  his  surroundings,  weighed  heavier  on 
him  inside  the  walls  of  the  little  room.  So  he  lit 
his  pipe,  took  down  his  hat  and  went  out  for  a  walk. 
It  came  to  his  mind,  that  it  was  a  long  time  since 
he  was  at  Mr.  Stahl's,  a  German  friend  of  his,  who 
worked  here  as  a  carpenter,  and  he  remembered 
that  Mr.  Stahl  had  been  absent  from  their  last 
meetings. 

He  went  to  his  house.  He  knocked  at  the  door; 
nobody  answered,  but  as  it  was  standing  half-open, 
he  went  in.  Nobody  seemed  to  be  there.  There 
was  no  fire  in  the  stove,  and  the  table  gave  no 


A  PULLMANTOWN  WORKMAN  STARVING  S3 

signs  of  any  breakfast.  He  coughed,  and  slow 
steps  were  heard  from  the  bedroom. 

A  man  stood  leaning  against  the  door.  It  was 
Mr.  Stahl. 

"For  heaven's  sake,  Mr.  Stahl,  are  you  sick?" 
Mr.  Hart  cried,  and  went  to  him. 

"I  have  been  lying  down  a  little — I  don't  feel 
well,"  was  the  answer,  and  Mr.  Stahl  sank  down 
on  a  chair. 

His  face  turned  white,  while  drops  of  perspiration 
showed  on  his  brow  in  spite  of  the  coldness  of  the 
room, 

Mr,  Hart  ran  for  a  drink  of  water.  While  he 
did  so,  he  once  more  looked  at  the  cold  stove,  at 
the  clean  kitchen  utensils  hanging  on  the  wall,  and 
the  dreadful  truth  struck  him. 

He  held  the  water  to  his  friend's  lips,  and  after 
he  had  drunk,  he  moved  him  to  the  easy-chair. 

"Rest  quietly  for  a  moment;  I  shall  soon  be 
with  you  again,"  he  said,  and  disappeared. 

He  ran  upstairs  to  the  third  floor,  where  a  sis 
ter-in-law  of  his,  who  worked  in  the  laundry,  lived 
with  her  old  mother.  He  found  the  old  lady  alone 
at  home,  hurriedly  explained  things  to  her,  and 
soon  the  coffee-pot  was  boiling. 

"Have  you  an  egg?"  he  asked. 


84  A  STORY  FROM  PULLM4NTOH/N 

"No,  I  have  not,  but  the  lady  in  the  rear  made  a 
cake  yesterday;  she  may  have  one." 

A  few  minutes  later  Mr  Hart  stood  in  Mr. Stahl's 
kitchen  with  a  coffee-pot  in  one  hand,  a  cream 
pitcher  in  the  other, bread,  a  cup  with  butter  and  an 
egg  in  a  bag  under  his  arm. 

He  placed  the  things  on  the  table  and  turned  to 
his  friend. 

"You  need  a  warm  drink,  and  you  must  try  to  eat 
some;  we  cannot  have  you  look  that  way." 

Without  objections  Mr.  Stahl  was  placed  by  the 
table,  while  Mr.  Hart  waited  on  him  with  a  half- 
despairing  look  in  his  usually  merry  eyes. 

He  did  not  talk  to  him  during  the  meal,  but 
after  he  had  finished  and  looked  better,  Mr.  Hart 
pushed  the  things  back  on  the  table,  took  a  chair 
up  to  the  other  end  of  it  and  said: 

"Why  do  you  let  things  go  on  that  way,  Ernst? 
Why  don't  you  come  and  let  us  know  how  you  are 
fixed?  Are  we  not  all  in  the  same  boat?  Where 
are  your  wife  and  children?" 

"I  told  them  to  go  to  her  sister's,  three  miles 
from  here,  as  soon  as  they  got  up  this  morning. 
I  said  I  would  go  to  see  you  later  in  the  forenoon. 
And  so  I  should  have  done,  if  I  had  not  felt  too 
sick," 


DRY  BREAD  AND  BLACK  COFFEE  85 

"  For  how  long  have  you  been  situated  that  way  ?" 

"We  have  had  no  fire  for  three  days.  The 
children  and  Annie  have  gone  out  visiting  some 
neighbors,  but  I  was  despairing;  I  thought,  just  as 
well  lie  down  and  die.  To  state  our  circumstances 
to  the  boss  or  to  Mr.  Hog,  the  manager,  would  be 
of  no  use,  and  to  live  on  the  rest  of  you — well,  that 
would  only  be  bringing  you  down  to  us  too  Still 
— I  should  have  gone  to  see  you  to-day — " 

"How  long  is  it  since  you  had  any  food?" 

"To-day  is  the  third  day." 

Mr.  Hart  went  to  the  window  and  stood  there  for 
a  while,  looking  out  at  the  streets  of  this  place, 
where  he  and  his  fellow-workers  had  paid  a  hun 
dred  fold  for  every  foot  of  ground. 

"We  have  been  behind  in  the  rent  for  the  last 
two  months,  as  I  was  without  work  the  whole 
fall;  so  every  pay-day  most  of  my  wages  went  to 
rent.  I  have  for  two  weeks  gone  to  work  with  dry 
bread  and  black  coffee  in  my  dinner-pail. 

"Do  you  remember  the  day  when  Harry  O'Shea 
fainted,  while  he  was  carrying  iron  to  the  copula, 
because  he  had  had  no  breakfast?     I  was  in  about 
the  same  fix  that  morning." 

*  *  *  * 

Mrs,  Wright  came  down  into  the  store  after 


86  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

some     coffee,     just     as    Mr.     Hart    opened    the 
door. 

"I  would  like  to  have  one  sack  of  flour,  one 
pound  of  tea,  fifty  cents'  worth  of  sugar  and  two 
pounds  of  butterine." 

Mr.  Wright  put  it  down  on  a  piece  of  paper. 

Mr.  Hart  laid  a  two  dollar  bill  on  the  counter, 
and  said, while  Mr.  Wright  was  changing  the  money: 
"Will  you  please  send  it  to  Mr.  Stahl,  downstairs 
in  the  barracks,  without  saying  where  it  came 
from  ?» 

Mrs.  Wright  was  there  in  a  moment,  and  had 
soon  drawn  the  whole  story  from  the  man. 

"Mr.  Hart,  I  ask  you  to  let  me  take  care  of  this. 
We  shall  send  that  family  food  enough  to  last  for 
a  week  at  least.  And  if  you  would  take  those  two 
dollars  and  instead  use  them  for  your  wife's  black 
dress,  I  should  feel  amply  rewarded.  You  know, 
she  has  had  the  goods  lying  since  Christmas,  when 
you  gave  it  to  her.  The  skirt  she  can  make  herself; 
but  the  waist  has  to  be  made  by  a  dressmaker. 
Will  you  ?" 

"I  promise  you  so,  and  I  thank  you,"  he  said, 
while  his  knotty  fingers  thrust  the  precious  paper 
deep  down  in  his  vest-pocket. 

*  *  *  * 

Mr.  Hart  went  to  meeting  that   night  with   the 


THEY  ALL  STUCK  TOGETHER         87 

intention  of  bringing  up  Mr.  Stahl's  case  as  the 
first  thing  of  the  evening.  But  when  he  arrived 
there,  he  found  the  whole  meeting  in  an  uproar 
over  just  as  bad  a  case. 

Mr.  Brown,  who  used  to  work  in  the  melting 
shops  and  a  year  ago  had  one  of  his  eyes  injured 
while  at  work  there,  had  returned.  Though  he 
had  spent  a  year  in  the  East,  under  the  treatment 
of  the  best  physicians,  he  nevertheless  had  lost  the 
sight  of  that  eye.  MR.  HOARD  had  done  nothing 
in  the  way  of  supporting  him  during  that  year,  not 
even  paid  his  doctor-bills.  His  boss  had  promised 
him  work,  when  he  came  home,  but  now  he  was 
informed  that  there  was  no  work. 

That  night  it  was  decided  not  to  call  upon  the 
bosses,  agents,  managers,  superintendents,  and 
what  all,  any  more. 

They  seemed  to  have  a  wide-reaching  authority, 
as  long  as  it  concerned  the  fleecing  of  the  work- 
ingmen;  but  whenever  it  came  to  adjusting  wrongs 
or  showing  human  feelings,  their  authority  sud 
denly  dwindled  down  to  nothing. 

And  they  all  stuck  together  in  guarding  their 
common  interests.  After  the  workingmen  had 
organized,  they  sent  a  committee  to  the  head-man 
ager  complaining  of  certain  bosses,  who  were  un 
usually  unjust  and  used  abusive  language. 


88  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

The  head-manager  promised  to  investigate  the 
matter,  but  the  investigation  was  limited  to  inquir 
ing  of  the  bosses  about  the  truth  of  those  com 
plaints.  Their  denial  was  taken  against  the  word 
of  the  hundreds  of  workingmen. 

It  was  rumored  that  MR.  HOARD  inside  two  weeks 

would  make  his  yearly  visit  to    Pullmantown,  and 

then  they  would  appoint  a  committee  to    call    on 

him  and  present  their  complaints  to  him  personally. 

*  •*  *  •* 

At  last  a  sunny  spring-day  came,  and  with  the 
new  life  bursting  all  bounds  in  nature,  a  new  hope 
dawned  in  many  hopeless  hearts. 

It  was  the  noon-hour,  and  the  workingmen  had 
taken  up  their  dinner-pails.  Suddenly  they  were 
all  stirred  up  by  the  announcement:  "MR.  HOARD! 
MR.  HOARD  is  here!" 

Some  of  them  remained  indifferently  seated  with 
their  dinner-pails;  others  flocked  to  the  doors. 

Along  the  streets  a  procession  was  moving. 
Heading  it  was  a  gray-bearded  man  in  a  heavy 
overcoat.  Stout  and  broad-shouldered,  heavy  in 
walk  as  well  as  heavy  of  build,  was  he.  He  looked 
like  a  log  of  hardwood  compared  with  the  intel 
lectual  physiognomies,  the  nervously  pliable  stat 
ures,  and  the  features  stamped  with  good-will  and 


¥   *S 

•5c-' 


'( 


Km^ 


n 


THB  \ 

UNIVERSITY   ) 


WATCHING  THE  PROCESSION  89 

humor    of    many  of  those  laborers  who  were  look 
ing  after  him. 

Behind  him  came  a  trail  of  followers  all  his 
agents  and  officials  in  a  line. 

Some  of  them  looked  a  little  worried,  some 
strained;  all  were  trying  hard  to  make  the  best  ap 
pearance  and  have  this  performance  carried  out  in 
the  best  possible  shape. 

The  girls  in  the  laundry,  in  the  repairing  and 
upholstery  shops,  ran  to  the  doors,  as  the  proces 
sion  in  turn  passed  their  places. 

Enraged,  mocking,  laughing,  as  their  disposition 
at  this  moment  prompted  them,  and  as  especial 
injustice  or  a  treatment  colored  by  favoritism  called 
it  forth,  they  gathered  in  crowds  looking  after  the 
vanishing  procession. 

"If  he  does  not  look  exactly  like  the  old  hog  we 
used  to  have  on  the  farm!"  one  saucy-looking  girl 
exclaimed. 

"Take  care  of  what  you  say,"  one  of  the  girls 
warningly  said,  looking  toward  the  foreman,  who 
was  as  busy  looking  out  as  they  were. 

Thus  women  and  men  stood  looking  after  that 
man,  who  represented  their  existence  during  all 
those  years — just  as  they  represented  his  existence, 
but  in  a  very  different  way.  A  quiet  hatred  arose 


90  A  SfbRY  FROM  PULLM/INTOWN 

in  them  as  they  watched  him.  Not  exactly  a 
hatred  against  him  personally,  but  a  hatred  against 
selfishness,  greed  and  lawlessness;  they  knew  how 
he  and  his  accomplices  of  the  monopolies  and 
trusts  secretly  were  breaking  the  laws  and  gaining 
their  way  by  throwing  other  people  in  the  ditch. 
*  *  *  * 

That  night  a  most  determined  meeting  was  held. 

Mr.  Brown,  the  man  who  had  lost  his  eye,  took 
the  floor  and  said: 

"The  man  whose  fortune  we  during  fourteen 
years  have  made,  after  he  through  questionable 
means  had  got  his  patent  on  a  poor  man's  inven 
tion,  has  been  on  our  premises  to-day.  I  say  'ours, ' 
for  this  place  is  morally  speaking,  ours;  the  tools 
and  the  shops,  and  the  factories,  all  of  it  is  ours. 

"He  ought  to  be  our  best  friend,  to  whom  we 
could  go  in  cases  of  need,  in  every  trouble  which 
befell  us.  If  he  could  not  live  among  us  person 
ally,  his  spirit  should  be  ever  present  with  us,  man 
ifesting  itself  in  helpfulness,  justice,  and  apprecia 
tion  of  our  work,  through  those  whom  he  saw  fit 
to  represent  him. 

"To  him  goes  the  money  which  we  make,  and  to 
his  agents  only  that  share  of  it  which  he  allows 
them;  therefore  we  lay  all  blame  on  him.  Why 


HE  MAY  BE  A  PRODUCT  91 

does  he  pass  our  streets  followed  by  his  tools,  in 
stead  of  going  among  his  workingmen,  inquiring, 
sympathizing,  like  one  man  with  another? 

"He  claims  he  is  running  things  at  a  loss;  if  so 
— but  we  do  not  believe  him— all  right,  we  have 
made  gold  enough  for  him  to  enable  him  to  stand 
considerable  loss.  But  if  so,  why  does  he  not 
come  to  us,  talk  things  over  with  us,  ask  our 
opinions  and  state  his  own? 

"But  he  feared  that  if  he  had  come  to  talk  things 
over  with  us,  we  might  have  asked  him  several 
unpleasant  little  questions,  for  instance,  if  he  called 
that  upright  doings,  that  a  superfluous  force  of  two 
hundred  men  have  been  kept  here  all  the  time,  so 
that  they  might  be  on  hand  in  case  of  a  rush.  Thus 
in  every  instance,  small  or  large,  the  interest  of 
the  employer  has  been  looked  after  at  the  expense 
of  the  employees. 

"Are  we  nobody,  we  who  have  in  heat  and  frost 
worked  to  furnish  him  with  mansions,  and  horses, 
and  money  wherewith  to  buy  power  and  independ 
ence  ? 

"It  may  not  be  his  own  fault  alone,  that  he  is 
the  man  he  is.  He  may  be  a  product  of  the  mis 
takes  of  the  whole  society,  of  ours  and  of  our 
fathers' ;  but  we  must  have  something  concrete  to 


92  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

lay  our  hands  on  and  make    an    example   of;  and 
he  is  the  one  nearest  to  us. 

"We  will  now  seek  him  personally.  He  may 
pass  us  like  a  stranger  on  the  streets,  but  when 
we  go  to  him  in  his  office  and  demand  an  answer, 
he  will  have  to  give  it.  What  kind  of  an  answer 
it  will  be,  time  will  show." 

Later  in  the  meeting  the  Kentuckian  arose  and 
said: 

UMR.  HOARD  wanted  to  force  us  into  voting  the 
Republican  ticket,  but  we  went  Democratic  with 
a  majority  of  two  thousand.  The  next  time  the 
whole  place  will  vote  the  Populist  ticket,  and  if  he 
turned  us  all  out  and  filled  his  houses  with  new  men, 
he  would  create  another  lot  of  Populists." 
*  -  *  *  * 

Two  days  later  a  committee  of  three  girls,  rep 
resenting  the  organized  women  of  Pullmantown, 
went  to  see  MR.  HOARD. 

Many  of  these  girls  once  had  a  good  and  quiet 
home.  Several  of  them  had  old  mothers  to  support, 
the  struggle  for  existence  having  been  laid  upon 
their  young  shoulders  after  the  death  of  their 
fathers.  Almost  all  of  them  were  nice  and  respect 
able  girls;  working  so  steadily  and  living  at  this 
place  affording  so  little  of  elbow-room,  one  always 


MR.  HOARD  AND  THREE  GIRLS  93 

knew  the  life  of  the  other  one.  But  their  very  re 
spectability  made  it  that  much  more  impossible  for 
them  to  exist! 

Many  of  them  had  been  used  to  seeing  little  ser 
vices  in  the  home  appreciated,  and  great  sacrifices 
valued  at  their  worth.  Now  they  had  to  give 
their  young  lives  to  work,  without  having  the 
gratification  of  seeing  that  work  appreciated;  nay, 
more,  it  was  considered  a  matter  of  mercy  that 
work  was  given  to  them. 

All  of  them  would  have  preferred  spending  the 
time  of  their  youth  some  other  place  than  in  the 
steam  and  heat  of  the  laundry,  or  in  the  dust  and 
unwholesome  air  of  the  repairing  shops.  But  all 
had  will  and  business  sense  enough  to  have  felt 
satisfied  with  working,  if  they  thus  had  been  en 
abled  to  make  an  honorable  living  for  themselves 
and  their  families. 

As  it  was  now,  with  80  to  91  cents  a  day  and 
constant  feeling  of  dependence  and  humiliation, 
life  was  not  worth  living. 

Now  they  were  going  to  see  a  man  who  thought 
himself  infinitely  their  superior,  by  his  sex,  by  his 
social  position,  by  his  supposedly  higher  develop 
ment  of  mental  faculties;  while  the  truth  was, that 
he  was  on  a  moral  scale  far  below  theirs. 


04  A  STORY  FROM  PULLM4NTOWN 

Filled  with  silent  contempt  for  him,  regretting 
that  he  was  a  being  to  be  considered  their  equal, 
they  stood  before  him  presenting  their  complaints 
and  watching  the  heavy,  immobile  features,  while 
waiting  for  an  answer,  which  they  knew  before 
they  got  it. 

Pay  higher  wages?  He  could  get  hislaundrying 
done  cheaper  in  Chicago  than  in  Pullmantown;  it 
was  only  out  of  consideration  for  them  that  the 
laundry  yet  was  in  running  order.  Cut  the  rent? 
Certainly  not.  He  was  losing  everywhere  without 
cutting  any  rent! 

*  *  *  * 

As  report  was  brought  to  the  meeting  that  night 
about  the  failure  with  which  the  women's  commit 
tee  had  met,  it  was  decided  to  send  a  committee 
of  three  men  to  MR.  HOARD. 

They  had  little  hope  of  any  inclination  on  his 
part  to  listen  to  them;  but  they  wanted  to  feel 
certain  that  all  which  could  be  done,  was  done. 
The  committee  was  chosen  and  the  statements 
drawn  and  signed  by  the  representatives  of  each 
union. 

Mr.  Wallace,  Mr.  Johnson,  and  Mr.  Dieterle 
were  chosen  for  the  committee. 

It  was  Saturday  evening,  and  the  coming  Mon 
day  was  appointed  for  calling  on  MR.  HOARD. 


UN  TV 


fUl 


WORDS  OF  COMFORT  AND  HELP  95 

Sunday  passed  very  quietly.  No  meeting  was 
to  be  held  that  night;  everybody  was  at  home 
awaiting  patiently  the  turn  of  events. 

A  great  many  went  to  church  in  the  afternoon 
to  listen  to  words  of  comfort  from  their  beloved 
minister.  And  they  left  church  strengthened  in 
the  hope  that  it  was  not  only  in  a  far-away  here 
after  that  life  was  meant  to  be  beautiful  and  true 
and  good.  It  was  to  become  so  here  on  this  earth, 
as  sure  as  life  means  joy  in  the  realization  of  our 
being. 

The  peaceful  words  and  the  light  of  truth  which 
shone  from  the  face  of  their  minister  and  friend, 
followed  them  home;  and  even  those  who  had 
been  most  misgiving  felt  a  ray  of  hope  arise;  the 
man  who  had  their  destiny  in  his  hand,  might  be 
better  than  they  thought;  there  might  be  a  spot 
in  his  soul  open  yet  for  the  voices  of  his  fellow- 
men,  and  that  spot  might  be  touched  to-morrow. 

Sunday  night  many  people  were  gathered  at  Mr. 
Wright's  house. 

Most  of  the  delegates  from  the  different  unions 
and  several  ladies  were  there. 

Very  little  was  spoken  about  the  economical 
affairs  of  Pullmantown. 

Everybody  felt  that  this  question  had  been    so 


96  A  STORY  FROM  PULLM^NTOWN 

thoroughly  discussed  from  every  possible  side,  that 
words  now  would  be  wasted. 

The  action  of  to-morrow  was  the  only  thing  left 
to  be  done.  If  that  should  be  without  result? — 
They  dared  not  answer  that  question  and  therefore 
they  remained  silent. 

Stories  had  been  told  from  Scotland  and  from 
Germany,  from  the  icebergs  of  the  Northlands  and 
from  the  hot  winds  of  Texas. 

Those  people  from  all  parts  of  the  world  were 
here  united  in  one  nation;  still  the  different  char 
acteristics  of  each  nation  were  retained,  and  this 
fact  served  to  make  them  yet  more  attractive  to 
one  another.  The  solidity  of  the  Scandinavian, 
the  high-mindedness  of  the  Scotchman,  the  warm 
heartedness  of  the  German,  the  enthusiasm  and 
activity  of  the  Frenchman,  and  the  liberality  and 
elasticity  of  mind  belonging  to  the  American,  min 
gled  together  and  created  an  evening  which,  for  a 
while,  made  those  present  forget  the  days  which  lay 
before  them. 

They  were  talking  about  the  literature  of  the 
different  countries.  A  Frenchman  and  a  German, 
with  like  eagerness,  each  claimed  their  country  as 
taking  the  lead.  The  German  pointed  at  Goethe 
and  Schiller. 


OUR  DEBT  TO  THE  GOTHS  97 

"I  don't  care,"  cried  the  Frenchman;  "they  were 
up  in  the  sky,  ours  have  their  feet  on  the  ground, 
and  from  there  they  are  reaching  upward!" 

"You  may  talk  all  you  want,"  a  deep  voice  from 
the  window-corner  said;  "all  your  literature,  En 
glish,  German,  French,  has  grown  out  of  the  old 
Gothic.  Our  warrior-tales  have  created  'die 
Niebellungenlieder'  and  the  songs  of  the  Trouba 
dours  of  Gascogne.  They  have  stamped  both  the 
Normannic  and  Anglo-Saxon  literature  of  En 
gland;  they  resound  from  the  pages  of  Shake 
speare." 

Every  eye  was  turned  to  the  fair-haired  Dane 
by  the  window,  who  hardly  ever  had  been  heard 
to  say  anything  before. 

Unheedingly  he  went  on:  And  the  moral  views 
and  religious  teachings  of  the  old  Goths  are  the 
same  as  are  found  to-day  in  the  hearts  of  the  na 
tions  and  partly  in  the  churches,  too.  In  fact, 
what  our  minister  told  us  to-day,  has  been  said  in 
our  language  centuries  ago,  almost  in-  the  same 
words." 

The  whole  gathering  jumped  to  their  feet. 

"Please,  Mr.  Hansen,  recite  some  of  it  for  us, 
if  you  can." 

"After  I  came  home  from  the  sermon,  I    looked 


98  A  STORY  FROM  PULLM/MTOWN 

it  up,  and  I  can  quote  some  of  the  most  striking 
of  it. 

"The  oldest  manuscript  which  is  found  written 
in  the  Icelandic  tongue,  or  the  "Old-Norse"  tongue, 
is  Volve-spa.  (Volve,  the  fate,  an  old  woman, 
who  was  before  everything  else — time  itself;  spa, 
that  is,  to  prophesy.) 

"It  tells  about  the  beginning  of  this  world: 

"  'There  was  in  the  dawn 
Of  the  earliest  time 
Neither  land  nor  sea, 
Nor  cooling  waves; 
Only  a  yawning, 
Indescribable  emptiness. ' 

"Further,  it  tells  about  the  life  and  struggle  of 
gods  and  men,  and  their  many  troubles  in  adjust 
ing  wrongs  and  making  things  meet  in  harmony. 

"At  last  the  end  of  it  all  is  described: 

"  'See,  it  is  rising — 
The  sunken  land! 
Green  as  a  spring-time 
It  grows  from  the  ocean; 
The  eagle  is  soaring 
'Way  over  the  mountains, 
Looking  for  fishes 
In  sparkling  waters. 

Gods  are  gathering 
On  plains  of  Ida; 
Together  they  speak 


A  POEM  OF  HEAVEN  ON  EARTH        99 

About  long-past  ages, 
The  power  of  Loke, 
The  deeds  of  the  old  times, 
The  songs  and  the  tales. 

Happily  playing 
On  sun-filled  meadows, 
They  find  under  grasses 
The  treasures  of  olden; 
Their  dice  of  gold, 
Once  lost  and  forgotten, 
Those  which  they  owned 
In  days  of  their  childhood. 

Harvest  shall  come 
From  fields  unsown; 
Evil  shall  slowly 
Turn  into  good; 
Weak  and  strong 
Together  inhabit 
Abodes  eternal. 
Do  you  understand  this? 

Then  comes  the  mighty 
All-framing  Spirit, 
He  who  alone 
Has  power  for  judgment; 
Peace  he  shall  give. 
Discord  shall  harmonize; 
Laws  He  shall  lay, 
Which  eternally  last.'  " 

It  was  very  quiet  in  the  room  after  he  had  fin 
ished. 

After  a  while  Mr.  Wallace  went  to  the  piano  and 
commenced: 


100  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

"My  country,  'tis  of  thee — " 

All  joined  with  a  solemnity,  as  if  it  was  a  hymn. 
But  when  he  came  to  the  stanza: 

"I  love  my  country,  thee, 
Land  of  the  noble  free — " 

his  voice  broke  down ;  he  arose,  closed  the  book, 
pushed  the  chair  away,  and  went  to  the  window, 
turning  his  back  on  the  rest  of  the  company. 

Mrs.  Wright  and  Miss  Kean  arose  and  went  into 
the  other  room. 

When  they  came  back,  the  guests  prepared  to 
break  up;  silently  they  bid  one  another  good-bye, 
each  of  them  filled  with  forebodings,  which  they 
could  not  give  a  definite  shape  to  themselves,  much 
less  express  to  anybody  else. 

It  was  about  midnight  when  Mr.  Wright  turned 
the  key  in  the  door,  preparing  to  go  to  bed.  In 
the  parlor  stood  his  wife,  her  hand  against  the 
table,  looking  into  the  room. 

As  he  entered,  she  said: 

"I  do  not  think,  Henry,  that  MR. HOARD  will  be 
more  willing  to  comply  with  the  requests  of  the 
men  than  he  was  with  those  of  the  women." 

"I  have  no  idea  that  he  will  either." 

"He  will  turn  them  off,  as  he  did  the  girls,  and 
whac  then?  It  will  end  with  a  strike." 


5O  FAR  AND  NO  FARTHER  101 

"Don't  say  that!" 

"It  will;  I  feel  it.  It  is  in  the  air;  it  is  in  the 
faces  of  those  men.  I  watched  the  Kentuckian 
and  Mr.  Dieterle  to-night,  and  I  said  to  myself  on 
beholding  the  quiet  determination  which  more  and 
more  is  taking  possession  of  them  as  well  as  of  all 
the  others:  It  will  come  to  a  point,  where  it  will 
be,  'so  far  and  no  farther. '  And  really,  what  other 
hope  is  there?" 

Mr.  Wright  seemed  very  much  agitated,  as  he 
stopped  in  front  of  his  wife. 

"A  strike — you  don't  know  what  a  strike  would 
mean  in  this  case,  or  you  would  not  talk  lightly 
about  it." 

"I  do  not  take  it  lightly,"  she  objected,  but  he 
did  not  hear  it. 

"It  would  not  be  a  strike  against  a  single  man; 
it  would  be  a  strike  against  monopolies  and  cor 
porations,  against  their  interpretations  of  laws, 
against  our  representatives  and  against  the  Presi 
dent  himself. 

"And  they  would  all  arise  and  strike  back  again. 
It  would  be  a  vain  effort,  resulting  in  increased 
suffering  for  those  who  already  have  suffered 
enough." 

"I  do  not  think  that  ever  a  strike  was  lost,  even 


102  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

if  it  seemed  so.  In  this  case  the  indirect  result 
would  be,  that  the  workingmen  in  Pullmantown 
would  draw  the  attention  of  the  world  to  their 
sufferings." 

"Ada,  when  we  know  that  MR.  HOARD  pays  in 
taxes  on  this  manufacturing  city  the  same  amount 
paid  for  swamp-land,  because  he  pays  each  new 
assessor  a  certain  sum  for  being  allowed  to  rob  the 
commonwealth,  can  we  then  expect  that  the  au 
thorities,  who  allow  this,  should  allow  strikers  to 
gain  their  cause!  It  is  useless,  and  worse  than  that! 
Let  us  go  to  the  polls,  throw  out  the  whole  com 
bination  and  get  our  rights;  that  is  the  only  way." 

"That  would  be  one  of  the  indirect  results  of  the 
strike.  The  sleeping  workingmen  would  be  aroused 
from  the  east  to  the  west  of  this  continent,  and 
they  would  go  to  the  ballot  and  stay  there. 

"They  call  me  an  optimist.      I  don't  care. 

"I  do  believe  in  truth  and  justice  being  the  ruling 
powers,  when  it  comes  to  the  point.  I  believe  the 
time  will  come  when  each  home  in  this  country- 
yea,  in  the  world,  but  in  this  country  first — will 
be  a  place  of  rest  and  peace,  of  beauty  and  of  love, 
and  I  believe  such  a  strike  would  be  one  of  the 
means  which  would  hasten  the  coming  of  such  a 
time.  I  cfon't  see  how  you  can  look  at  our  inno- 


She  had  taken  a  paper  from  the  table  and  wrung  it  in  her  hands, 
while  she  almost  defiantly  looked  at  him. — Page  103. 


Atfy 

OF  THB 

'UNIVERSITY  J 


NO  GREAT  CHANGES  WITHOUT  BIRTH-PAINS      103 

cent  child  and  not  believe  that  the  time  must  come 
soon,  when  such  little  ones  will  be  born  into  life 
in  its  fullness." 

"I  believe  in  it,  too;  but  we  cannot  force  it 
forth." 

"Well— that  depends  on — "  she  half  laughed — 
"don't  you  remember:  knock  at  the  doors,  and 
they  will  be  opened — seek,  and  you  will  find—? 
Jacob  fought  with  the  Lord — they  teach  us  so  about 
the  unseen  things,  but  they  are  careful  not  to  apply 
this  rule  to  things  which  can  be  seen!  Never  yet 
have  great  changes  been  effected  without  birth- 
pains.  There  are  walls  which  must  be  torn  down, 
and  old  stuff  which  must  be  thrown  out.  I  say  it 
is  cowardliness  in  men  not  to  strike  under  certain 
circumstances.  Better  to  lie  down  on  the  street 
and  die  than  to  live  a  slave's  life  and  leave  it  as  an 
inheritance  to  their  children." 

She  had  taken  a  paper  from  the  table  and  wrung 
it  in  her  hands,  while  she  almost  defiantly  looked 
at  him. 

"You  may  be  right;  I  cannot  tell.  But  promise 
me  one  thing,  Ada;  let  us  not  be  the  first  ones  to 
mention  the  word  'strike.'  I  could  not  bear  the 
responsibility.  Promise  me!" 

"I  promise  you,"  she  said,  more  quietly. 


104  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

To  herself  she  thought,  that  if  a  strike  should 
prove  necessary,  there  would  be  enough  to  mention 
it,  besides  her. 

*  *  *  * 

The  next  day  the  appointed  committee  stood  be 
fore  MR.  HOARD. 

Quietly,  hiding  his  rising  displeasure,  he  received 
them. 

Thus  they  met — those  men  representing  the 
thousands  of  wage-earners,  of  the  best,  the  most 
skilled  in  the  world,  and  this  man,  whose  clothes 
and  jewelry  and  mansions  and  horses  represented 
the  products  of  their  labor. 

They  looked  upon  him  as  the  man  who  fattened 
on  their  toil,  and  who  in  them  only  recognized  the 
toilers. 

And  he— well,  he  felt  intuitively  that  they  stood 
before  him  filled  with  contempt. 

Politely  and  business-like  their  requests  were 
set  forth ;  quietly  and  business-like  his  answer  came; 
but  both  parties  looked  through  one  another,  and 
the  man,  in  possession  of  the  millions,  felt  himself 
shrinking  before  the  earnest  gaze  of  those  men  rep 
resenting  the  real  owners  of  the  millions. 

They  received  exactly  the  same  answer  as  the 
women. 


NO  CONCESSION  FROM  MR.  HOARD  105 

Wages  could  not  be  increased;  nor  would  the 
rent  be  cut.  His  business  would  then  be  run  at  a 
loss,  he  said,  and  they  could  not  expect  that. 

In  quietness  they  listened  to  his  answer,  while 
they  saw  as  in  a  vision  rising  behind  his  back  mil 
lions  of  gold  coins,  which  they  had  made  and  he 
hoarded  away. 

They  were  welcome  to  inspect  the  books,  he 
added;  there  they  could  convince  themselves  of 
what  he,  at  present,  was  making. 

It  was  supremely  indifferent  to  them  what  at 
present  was  made — they,  who  knew  what  had  been 
made;  still,  they  looked  at  the  books  as  offered 
them. 

They  were  not  experts  in  book-keeping;  so  in 
reality  this  made  them  no  wiser;  the  books  might 
be  "fixed"  for  such  an  inspection,  or — what  had 
been  whispered — there  might  be  a  double  set  of 
books. 

Anyway,  it  was  out  of  the  question,  whether  the 
work  of  to-day  paid  or  did  not  pay. 

But  as  they  were  seated  with  the  books,  Mr. 
Dieterle  turned  the  leaves  of  his,  grew  pale  and 
grasped  Mr.  Wallace  by  the  arm. 

Mr.  Wallace  followed  where  his  finger  pointed; 
a  long  list  of  names  were  written  on  a  sheet — 


106  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWN 

names  of  all  the  leaders  of  the  organization  work, 
of  all  who  ever  had  spoken  at  the  meetings. 
Mr.  Wallace  saw  his  own  name,  Mr.  Dieterle's, 
Mr.  Johnson's,  Mr.  Hart's.  This  was  the  death 
blow  of  that  community  for  years  to  come. 

Their  work  was  leveled  with  the  earth;  they 
would  have  to  leave  behind  them  the  suffering 
thousands  chained  to  the  soil,  without  any  hope  of 
better  conditions  during  their  life-time.  Certainly 
the  best  protective  measures  MR.  HOARD  could 
use!  In  silence  they  laid  down  the  books,  and 
faced  each  other. 

"Let  us  ask  him, on  leaving,  if  our  representing 
his  workingmen  will  result  in  our  discharge,"  Mr. 
Wallace  said. 

So  they  did,  and  were  assured  that  it  would  not. 

At  that  night's  meeting  the  refusal  of  their  em 
ployer  was  announced  to  the  workingmen. 


The  next  day,  about  noon,  Mr.  Wright  came  up 
into  the  kitchen. 

Mrs.  Wright  was  rolling  out  cookies,  and  her  little 
boy  was  watching  her. 

She  turned  and  looked  at  her  husband;  his  face 
was  white. 


A  SLEEPLESS  NIGHT  107 

With  an  exclamation,  she  dropped  the  rolling- 
pin  and  ran  to  him. 

"Mr.  Wallace,  Mr.  Dieterle  and  Mr.  Johnson 
are  'laid  off'.  The  foreman  took  Mr.  Dieterle's 
place,  as  they  had  no  one  with  whom  to  fill  it." 

"I  knew  that  would  be  the  result !"  she  exclaimed 
— "the  beginning  of  the  results!  Our  'free'  coun 
try  !"  she  added  bitterly. 

"What  have  you  now  to  say?"  she  asked  him. 

"Nothing.     Absolutely  nothing." 

He  sank  down  on  a  chair  and  reached  for  his 
boy. 

The  child  stood  between  his  father's  knees, 
looking  up  at  him  with  surprise. 

She  saw  heavy  tears   fall   on   the   golden   curls. 
She  could  not  cry,  her  throat  seemed  filled  up. 
*  *  *  * 

That  night  forty-four  delegates  from  the  work- 
ingmen's  unions  gathered  at  a  meeting. 

No  one  else  was  admitted. 

Mrs.  Wright  did  not  go  to  bed  that  night,  The 
gas  was  burning  full  in  the  parlor;  she  sat  in  the 
rocking-chair,  or  she  paced  the  floor.  Her  hus 
band  was  in  bed,  but  she  heard  him  tossing  sleep- 
lessly. 

Toward  morning  she  went  to  his  bed-side. 


103  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOU'N 

"I  want  to  tell  you  what  I  have  seen  to-night," 
she  said,  talking  slowly,  as  one  talks  who  at  the 
same  time  sees  and  describes  what  is  seen. 

"I  see  a  country  rising,  filled  with  prosperity 
and  blessings.  No  drouth  is  killing  the  crops,  for 
the  nation  has  irrigated  all  which  can  be  irrigated, 
and  no  land  which  risks  drouth  is  used  for  agri 
culture.  It  is  laid  out  in  immense  pastures.  I  see 
nations  mingling  together  as  one,  and  no  restraint 
is  laid  on  their  bringing  their  products  to  one  an 
other. 

"I  see  the  mines  and  the  oil-wells  and  the  stones 
and  the  metals  belong  to  society  in  common,  as 
they  did  from  the  beginning. 

"And  in  that  world  I  see  no  wage-earners.  They 
are  all  owners  of  the  earth. 

"And  I  see  people  becoming  good,  and  their 
children  still  better." 

Here  she  sank  down  on  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and 
as  he  tried  to  lift  her,  he  saw  that  she  had  fainted. 

The  next  day,  about  ten  o'clock,  Mrs.  Wright 
got  up  after  a  few  hours'  sleep.  She  felt  stronger, 
though  her  cheeks  were  flushed  with  excite 
ment. 

As  she  went  into  the  parlor,  she  found  Mr.  Wal 
lace  there.  She  wrung  his  hands  without  words; 


OF 

UNIVERSITY 


THE  STRIKE  IS  ON  109 

she  was  unable    to  speak,  and  it  seemed  to  be  the 
same  way  with  him. 

She  went  to  the  cupboard  after  some  dishes,  as 
the  door  was  opened. 

Miss  Kean  came  in. 

Without  a  word  she  went  to  the  chair  where  Mr. 
Wallace  was  sitting.  She  laid  her  arm  around  his 
neck  and  kissed  him.  He  took  her  hands  in  his 
and  covered  his  face  with  them. 

Mrs  Wright  left  the  two  alone  and  went  to  the 
kitchen. 

About  ten  minutes  later  she  heard  Mr.  Wright 
storming  up  the  stairway. 

"Come!"  he  said.  "Come  to  the  window  in  the 
corner  room !"  And  he  almost  dragged  her  with 
him. 

Slowly,  with  uplifted  heads,  in  their  working 
clothes,  dinner-pails  in  hands,  line  after  line  of 
workingmen  passed  along  the  street.  Another 
crowd  turned  the  corner,  were  received  with  a 
cheer,  and  fell  in  line  with  the  first. 

Mrs.  Wright  heard  steps;  she  turned  her  head 
and  saw  Mr.  Wallace  and  Miss  Kean  behind  them. 

His  face  was  lit  with  a  light  from  above;  Miss 
Kean  was  struggling  with  an  emotion  which  lifted 
her  shoulders  and  took  away  her  breath. 


110  A  STORY  FROM  PULLMANTOWW 

"The  strike  is  on,"  Mr.  Wright  quietly  said,  as 
if  it  was  something  he  had  expected. 

His  wife  grasped  his  arm  and  leaned  against  him. 

He  drew  her  closer  to  the  window,  pointed  out 
at  the  procession  of  men  and  said:  "If  we  have 
to  lay  down  our  last  cent,  we  will  stay  by  their 
side." 


FINIS. 


WANTED-MEN  AND  WOMEN 

MEN  AND  WOMEN  who  believe  in  human  rights, 
who  can  see  how  human  rights  are  now  endan 
gered,  and  who  want  to  do  their  part  in  the  defense  of 
human  rights,  are  urged  to  let  us  know  where  we  can 
find  them. 

Our  work  is  the  publishing  of  books  of  social  reform; 
books  like  this  one  that  expose  acts  of  oppression  and 
injustice,  and  books  that  point  to  some  way  for  bring 
ing  about  better  social  conditions. 

We  need  fifty  thousand  agents  for  this  book,  to  bring 
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sufferers. 

Write  us  for  prices  by  the  dozen,  hundred  and  thou 
sand,  and  write  for  our  list  of  other  books  of  reform. 
We  want  particularly  the  address  of  every  reform  lec 
turer  in  the  United  States. 

CHARLES  H.  KERR  &  COMPANY,  Publishers, 
175  Monroe  Street,  Chicago, 


WOMAN,  CHURCH  \  STATE 

A  Historical  Account  of  the  vStatus  of 

Woman  through  the  Christian  Ages 

with  Reminiscences  of  the 

Matriarchate 


BY  MATILDA  JOSLYN  GAGE 

A  few  brief  extracts  from  many  long  reviews  and  letters: 


An  earnest  and  eloquent  book.— Philadel 
phia  Press. 

We  have  read  this  book  with  interest  and 
satisfaction.— Boston  Investigator. 

The  book  will  be  especially  valuable  for 
study  in  woman's  clubs.— Woman's  Tribune. 

The  subject  is  an  important  one  and  has 
never  received  the  attention  it  deserves.— 
Unity. 

The  author  is  well  provided  with  facts 
and  authorities,  and  uses  them  to  the  best 
advantage.— Philadelphia  Item. 

You  always  have  something  to  say  worth 
hearing,  and  know  how  to  say  it.— PROF. 
ELLIOTT  COUES,  Washington,  D.  C. 

Mrs.  Gage,  who  has  long  been  known  as  an 
able  and  eloquent  advocate  of  woman's 
rights,  rolls  up  a  heavy  score  of  wrongs 
against  women  on  the  part  of  the  church.— 
New  Orleans  Times-Democrat. 

Your  splendid  book  on  woman  was  duly 
received.  It  seems  to  me  the  most  power 
ful  appeal  ever  made  to  women,  and  will 
rank  among  the  memorable  and  classic 
works  of  all  time.— PROF.  J.  RooE3  BUCH 
ANAN,  California. 

The  amount  of  valuable  information  lu 
cidly  and  clearly  stated  in  this  volume  of 
554  pages,  is  amazing.  It  is  packed  with 
knowledge  from  beginning  to  end.  No  one 
can  possibly  regret  buying  it,  it  is  a  valu 
able  addition  to  the  library  of  any  free  and 
truth  loving  mind.— The  Progressive  Thin 
ker,  Chicago. 

This  is  a  work  of  a  nature  whic1)  has  long 
been  desired;  the  book  deals  not  only  with 
church  and  woman,  but  as  its  title  reads, 
witn  woman,  church  and  state.  The  work 
is  quite  encyclopedic.  We  cannot  well  con 
vey  an  idea  of  the  vast  number  of  facts 
printed  in  its  pages.  It  is  of  interest  and 
use  to  the  student  of  church  history,  of 
woman  history  and  of  the  history  of  the 
•tate.— The  Truth  Seeker. 


It  shows  much  research  and  learning.— 
Advance. 

It  is  a  revelation  and  ought  to  be  read  ex 
tensively.—  Kansas  Farmer. 

The  work  cannot  fail  to  command  atten 
tion  among  thinkers. — Chicago  Times. 

The  author  claims  that  self-development 
is  woman's  role,  not  self-sacrifice. — Brook 
lyn  Eagle. 

The  author  is  very  severe  upon  the  Ro 
man  church  for  its  part  in  the  subjection  of 
women. — San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

Perhaps  the  fullest  and  strongest  pres 
entation  of  the  case  from  the  radical  wom 
an's  standpoint.— Boston  Transcript. 

The  subject  of  these  pages  is  not  a  pleas 
ant  one  to  contemplate,  but  the  presenta 
tion  is  so  bold  and  direct  as  to  impress  us 
with  its  sincerity,  and  the  language  Is  ex 
pressively  clear.  —Review  of  Reviews, 

To  the  reader  interested  in  human  evolu 
tion  and  whose  heart  is  alive  to  the  need  of 
better  conditions  for  race  advancement, 
this  book  will  open  up  new  vistas  for 
thoughtful  contemplation.— L  u  c  i  N  D  A  B. 
CHANDLER,  in  the  Arena. 

In  "Woman,  Church  and  State"  Matilda 
Joslyn  Gage  has  formulated  a  collection  of 
far-reaching  historic  facts  which  in  them 
selves  are  silent  arguments  for  the  pro 
gressive  cause  the  author  so  ably  cham 
pions.  The  author  has  woven  a  personality 
into  her  writings  that  keeps  the  interest 
awakened  throughout.— Boston  Ideas. 

If  this  work  of  Mrs.  Gage  serves  to  arouse 
in  women  stronger  purpose  and  deeper  re 
spect  for  their  sex,  if  it  serves  to  liberate  the 
minds  of  women  from  the  bondage  of  eccle 
siastical  authority,  and  the  spirit  of  sub 
ordination,  it  will  accomplish  the  work 
whereunto  it  was  sent  by  the  noble  purpose 
of  its  author.— The  World's  Advance- 
Thought,  Portland.  Oregon. 


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Lessons  from  the  World  of  Matter  and  the 
...World  of  Man... 

By  THEODORE  PARKER, 


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dim  among  those  who  have  heard  his  voice  and  looked 
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America  not  so  very  long  ago.  His  mantle  has  perhaps 
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photograph  of  the  winged  words.  The  things  I  value 
most  are  not  always  such  as  get  printed."  —  Theodore 
Parker  to  Rufus  Leighton. 

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DARE  YOU  READ  IT? 

Washington 

Brown, 

Farmer. 

By  LEROY  ARMSTRONG, 
The  Story  of  The  Year. 


«« You  dare  not  publish  that  story,'*  said  a  prom 
inent  Board=of=Trade  man  who  had  examined  the 
manuscript. 

« I  dare  publish  it  if  the  people  dare  read  it," 
said  the  Author. 


It    is  the    Farmers'   Gospel 

PRICE— CLOTH,    $1.00;    PAPER,    50    CENTS. 

CHARLES  H.  KERR  &  COMPANY,  PUBLISHERS,  176  Monroe  St.,  Chicago. 


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INTERLIB^ARX    UO^                                      ooo.      Paper, 

nroX    ~  «kl7                                              k  by  a  young 
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General  Library                 25  cents. 
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